


Vacuus Fine Finium

by Sapphy



Series: Cheesy Vampire Harry [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Edgeplay, First smut I ever wrote, HP: EWE, Humor, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, May one day be rewritten, Silly, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter in the showers changes Draco life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KattsEyeDemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KattsEyeDemon/gifts).



> I'm copying this over from HPFandom, because I thought hey, why not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1: In which Draco is unlucky, Pansy is cunning and Blaise is so astoshingly dim it's a wonder he isn't in Hufflepuff! Warnings for overeactions, voyeurism and non-canon use of the RoR

Draco wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings when he pushed open the connecting door between the Prefect’s Bathroom and the communal boy’s shower room that lay behind the main bath. So he was surprised to see someone else already enjoying the hot water. He hadn’t noticed the noise of the shower running, and for a moment he was disappointed – he’d been hoping for a shower to himself, to try and workout some of the tension he felt almost constantly these days. Especially now tall dark handsome Blaise (with whom he shared his dungeon dormitory) had decided he wanted to try being bisexual (mostly, Draco thought, because Millicent had come out a few weeks earlier and Blaise hated anyone else being in the limelight). Blaise had decided that to be properly bisexual he needed a boyfriend and as the only other boys in their dorm were Crabbe, Goyle and Nott (who looked like he might be Snape’s love child), Blaise’s distinctly unsubtle attentions had focused themselves onto Draco.

The worst thing about the whole situation, Draco thought, was that if a) Blaise wouldn’t tell the entire school and therefore pretty much guarantee his father finding out and b) if he thought for one moment he’d get more than giggles and maybe one awkward kiss out of Blaise, he’d take him up on his offer like a shot. But Blaise was the biggest blabbermouth in the school and (even though he himself didn’t seem to know it) 100% straight, so Draco was left with an uncomfortable erection and half formed fantasies about the contrasts of dark skin against pale and whether the rumours about Black wizards were true.

And now his plan for a long hot shower and a screaming wank had to be abandoned because he was not alone in the shower, and while he wasn’t adverse to a little exhibitionism (alright make that a lot), his companion would probably scream the school down and get him detention for the rest of his school life. Especially as he now noticed the Gryffindor tie hanging with the rest of the other boy’s uniform on the peg by the door.

‘Ah well,’ Draco sighed deeply. It looked like the screaming wank would have to wait until he was in bed. Except he remembered suddenly, that it couldn’t because the last three times he had tried to relieve the growing pressure of his arousal in the comfort (and he had hoped privacy) of his own bed, one of his roommates had interrupted him. And he couldn’t exactly just tell them what he was doing and chuck them out because Slytherin seventh years DID NOT WANK. It was an unwritten rule that no one ever dream of admitting to breaking. If you had to wank that meant you couldn’t find anyone willing to help you with your arousal – or that you could but you wanted someone else – and to admit that was to admit weakness. And admitting weakness in Slytherin was about as sensible as painting yourself in sugar and smashing open bee’s nests if you’re allergic to formic acid.

Stripping off, Draco turned the water on and turned the heat dial up as hot as it would go. This was still not quite as hot as he would have liked as all the Hogwarts showers had limiting spells on them so students couldn’t keep turning the heat up and up. On most magical showers one could, if one wished, shower in boiling water. Draco frequently did at home, with a spell to stop him getting badly scalded of course. However the Hogwarts staff had decided that with the high number of muggleborns (who obviously wouldn’t know just how hot the water could get, and probably wouldn’t know any anti burn spells) it was best to just limit the heat the showers could be turned up to the same as an average muggle shower.

Wondering at the sheer cruelty of the world, and wondering if this was enough evidence to prove the creator was a drug addled four year old, he began to massage his very expensive apple shampoo into his hair, letting all the tension leave his muscles. It was then that he happened to glace across at his companion. And froze. Well, not all of him. His brain shut down and creased all function. His hands stopped making the little gentle circles against his scalp. His whole body froze in fact. Except for his cock, which woke up and most definnatly took an interest. Because attached to exactly the sort of lithe, muscled, Quidditch toned body Draco liked was the most perfect cock Draco had ever seen. Everything about it was perfect – the size, the shape, the creamy skin. In that instant Draco knew he had to have it. And whoever owned it, regardless of who they were. He tore his eyes away from this perfect specimen of manhood, and slowly trailed his gaze up the body of its owner. Strong muscled thighs, firm, well rounded arse, taught, toned torso, broad shoulders. Everything about this man was perfect. He was lean and toned without being huge and muscle bound. His skin had that light natural tan that comes from spending lots of time outdoors and on a broom. Then Draco raised his eyes to the boy’s face… and all his fantasies came crashing down round his ears. Because the face – an attractive and well proportion face, with boy next door good looks – was one he knew all too well. The gorgeous figure of a man who stood next to him, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he enjoyed the warm water of the shower, was none other than Harry Potter. The boy who fucking lived and lived and lived and then refused to die. Draco nearly cried.

He rinsed his hair as quickly as he could and left the shower. He needed to think. He also needed to come and that was making it difficult to think. He therefore needed help thinking and there was only one person he could turn to at times like this – Pansy Parkinson.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He found her curled up in a large wing backed green armchair in the corner of the common room reading one of those trashy Veela romances she had inexplicably become addicted to over the summer. He let her get the end of the page she was reading, and then just before she turned the page her leant down and whispered in her ear “I need to talk to you Pans – privately.” Pansy nodded and replied without looking up “Meet me in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes.” Draco smiled his thanks and left her to her reading. Ten minutes was plenty of time to get his head in order so he’d be able to think clearly for his meeting with Pansy. And at this time of day the washroom attached to his dorm would most likely be empty.

He spelled the lock shut, and then just in case he added the strongest silencing spell he knew. His mind flickered through images and memories, trying to choose a fantasy. Draco recognised he was deluding himself – that he was choosing an appropriate fantasy. One he was allowed think. But he still couldn’t quite bring himself to think about what he really wanted – to much social conditioning. He just felt guilty and awkward and that put him off. He eventually settled on the first time Pansy had sucked him off. She was female, and they were old friends but Merlin she was good at it. Didn’t like it much she said, but regarded it a necessary skill for life, so she’d chosen Draco as her test subject. He hadn’t minded much. He lent back against the wall, one hand sliding inside his shirt to stroke his sensitive nipples. Then he slipped his other hand inside his robes and undid his flies and all thoughts of Pansy vanished as his hand closed around his hot flesh and he was swept away on a wave of desire. And now it was him on his knees not Pansy and the rock hard cock before him, leaking just a little precome was Potters, and he leant forward and licked the tip, tasting him and then he swallowed the perfect example of manhood and was doing his best to swallow it all but it was far bigger than any of his previous lover’s, and Potter’s hand was in his hair and he was thrusting into Draco’s mouth mercilessly harder and harder, deeper and deeper and it was making Draco gag and every gag was sending little spark of pleasure through his body and he couldn’t breath (Draco hadn’t realised it but he had actually stopped breathing at this point) and the suffocation was making him light headed but that just made the feel of Potters hot, hard flesh in his mouth all the more erotic and he didn’t care that his jaw hurt or that Potter was pulling his hair harder and harder or that is knees hurt, all that mattered was pleasing his lover and as Potter came deep in his throat and he felt the hot come splatter against the back of his throat he came himself and slid down the bathroom door he’d been leaning against, panting. He opened his eyes slowly, and blushed when he remembered who and what he’d just wanked to. Taking deep breaths (he really needed to stop suffocating himself when he wanked) to steady himself he got unsteadily to his feet and straightened himself up, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t obvious that he’d just had a screaming wank. When he was certain he looked presentable he removed the spells shielding the bathroom, let himself out and headed straight to the Room of Requirement.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Pansy was already outside waiting for him and together they paced, imagining the little cubby hole they used when they needed to tell each other secrets. Pansy and Draco were each other’s only real friends – true friends are hard to find in Slytherin - and they shared everything. Finally a door opened in the blank stone in front of them and Draco pushed it open. There it was - their little hidey hole. It was a small room, really only big enough to hold the two of them. The walls were covered in old oak bookcases. A fire burned in a huge fireplace that took up most of one wall and a comfy loveseat sofa was pulled up in front of it. Draco curled up into one corner of it, and Pansy sat herself elegantly next to him.

They stared into the flames in silence for a few minutes before Pansy asked the all important question. “What’s wrong Draco?” Draco flushed slightly and replied without lifting his eyes from the flames before him “I’ve seen my perfect man.”

Not many people knew that Draco was gay. Obviously he’d slept with a few guys who he knew could be trusted to keep quiet. But as far as they were concerned that was just experimenting – nothing serious. For it to get out that the only heir to the Malfoy title and estates felt disgusted and wrong and icky and horrible for days after sleeping with a woman… that would not be good.

“Who is he,” Pansy asked. She guessed it was going to be bad. Draco wouldn’t be this subdued if it wasn’t.

“That’s the problem,” Draco answered gloomily. “That’s why I need your advice. It’s fucking Harry Potter of all people!”

Pansy stared at him in shock for a few minutes, digesting the information. “What exactly do you mean perfect man?” she asked slowly.

Draco smiled slightly. This was one of the reasons he loved Pansy so much. Most people would have run screaming or just told him to give up on it. But Pansy – she assessed the damage, and asked all the right questions before she came to any conclusions.

“I mean he has the most perfect body I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “And now I’ve seen it I think I’ll go insane if I can’t have it. No one else could even begin to compare. I just wanked for the first time in three years because of him!!!”

“Hmmm.” Draco would have giggled if this had not been so serious. He loved the way Pansy’s nose wrinkled when she was thinking hard. It really was adorable. “What were you thinking about when you masturbated?” Pansy asked thoughtfully.

“You,” said Draco, a little too quickly. “The first time you sucked me off.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose slightly at the memory. She really did hate giving blowjobs. She was about say something comforting when Draco interrupted her. “Okay that was a lie. I tried to think about you Pans, I really did but then I started wandering what his cock would feel like in my mouth and what he’d taste like and whether he’d be rough or gentle. Fuck it Pansy, I just came imagining sucking Potter off and it was the best orgasm I’ve had in months.” He stared into the flames to avoid meeting her eyes.

Pansy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “It seems me,” to Pansy said thoughtfully, “that there’s only one logical course of action here.” He looked up at her hopefully. “I mean obviously you can’t be seen to be moping over someone – and you certainly can’t let it be known that you wanked. But from what you said no one else will do right now. It’s him or nothing.” Draco nodded slowly, trusting Pansy to come up with a brilliant solution to his monumental problem. “So the only answer to your problem,” Pansy continued, “is to seduce Potter!”

Draco just stared at her.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was still brooding on her suggestion as he walked back to the Slytherin dorms. After his talk with Pansy he’d gone for a walk round the castle to clear his head. Now he was back in the Dungeon, close to the Slytherin common room, when he sensed someone following him. He spun round angrily to face… Blaise. Bloody fucking Blaise fucking Zabini.

“Oh hey Draco,” said Blaise, desperately affecting nonchalance. “Didn’t see you down here.”

“Shut up Zabini,” said Draco grimly. “Why the fuck were you following me?”

Blaise at least had the grace to blush. “I was just wondering if you’d reconsidered my offer…” Blaise answered in what he obviously thought was a sultry tone.

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. He really was beginning to wander if anything would get through Blaise’s thick skull. “Look Blaise,” he said, trying to keep his tone reasonable. “Even if I were interested in you, which I’m not, (“which thanks to my new Potter obsession is now the truth” he thought ruefully) we are sexually completely incompatible. You seem incapable of grasping the fact that I’m not gay. And you’ve heard the rumours about me, about the kind of stuff I’m into. And I know perfectly well that you are pretty much totally vanilla. You like your women (and for the twentieth time Blaise, you do like women, you are straight) kink free, except for maybe a French maid outfit.”

Blaise grinned, apparently unperturbed. “Of course I’ve heard the rumours. They’re a complete exaggeration of course like all rumours. Like the one about Potter having a nine inch cock. You can’t use idle gossip to put me off. And I’m not adverse to a bit of kink. I don’t mind if you want a bit of spanking, something like that. I won’t get freaked out. Might not really be my thing, but I think you’ll find I’m a very… accommodating lover.”

Draco laughed quietly. “You have no fucking idea Blaise.” There was no way he was going to share the fact that the rumour about Potter was true with anyone. That little nugget was his alone and he was going to guard it jealously. “Has it never occurred to you that the rumours wouldn’t spring from nothing? And that no one except you in Slytherin house would think anything so tame as “a bit of spanking” was worth gossiping about. Fuck it Blaise, you’re the one who called Snape in and insisted I go to the hospital wing for a psychological evaluation just because I had my shower a bit hot.”

Blaise stared at him. “Draco you had stood under water that was 110°c for ten minutes without an anti scald spell. You had third degree burns. You clearly weren’t thinking straight. And anyway, Pomfrey agreed with me didn’t she? You had to take those calming potions for weeks afterwards!”

Draco was beginning to wonder if any one could be this thick or if Blaise maybe thought it was cute or something. It definitely wasn’t. In fact he was beginning to feel a need for one of those calming potions right now. “Blaise those calming potions where to stop me from hexing you into next week for reporting it. Because of course once Pomfrey knew, she had to report it to my parents and to you have any idea just how hard that was to explain? And I was thinking perfectly straight thank you very much. I had turned the water up that high because I wanted to. Because it helps me to think and to relax. I was going to heal the burns before I went to bed.”

“Whatever. But I fail to see what this has to do with my earlier offer. And don’t bother trying that ‘kinkier than thou’ shit Draco. You must be an idiot if you think I’m going to believe those rumours are true.”

That was it. Draco cracked. He’d had this for nearly a month now. And now Potter’s gorgeous body had cured him of whatever illness had made him find this brain-dead vanilla cretin attractive, he saw no reason to continue to put up with it. Snarling he grabbed the front of Blaise’s robes and shoved him hard against the nearest wall, pressing his body against Blaise’s, aware that Blaise could feel that Draco was getting of on the fear in the dark boy’s eyes and not caring. “Have you ever felt the rush of power you get when you’re holding a knife to your lover’s throat?” he whispered, his mouth barely inches away from Blaise’s. Any passer by would probably think he had given in to Blaise’s advances, but he was too angry and power-drunk to care what they thought. “Have you ever felt that incredible rush of endorphins your body releases when you’re being strangled, just before you run out of oxygen completely?” he demanded. His fist tightened its grip on the front of Blaise’s robes. “I didn’t hear you,” Draco snarled. “Have you?”

Blaise shook his head, a barely perceptible movement, but enough for Draco’s anger to subside a little and he let go of the other boy and stepped away. “Until you have Blaise, don’t even talk about how kinky I am or am not, because you have no fucking idea.” And he turned on his heel leaving the other boy staring bemusedly at his back, trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He had been sitting staring into the green flames of the common room fire for what seemed like forever when he heard a small noise beside him. Blaise was standing there looking a bit shamefaced.

Before Draco could come up with a cutting dismissal, Blaise quickly said, “I’m sorry Draco. I didn’t mean to annoy you. And I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you, I thought that you were interested, but clearly I was wrong. I’ll leave you alone now I promise.”

Draco considered for a moment and decided he would accept Blaise’s apology. After all, until that morning he had been interested. Just not suicidal. “That’s okay Blaise,” he answered. “And I’m sorry. I overreacted a little earlier. I didn’t mean to slam you against the wall. I’ve been having a bad day.”

Blaise smiled at him. “Apology accepted.” Draco went back to his brooding, but looked up again when he saw Blaise hadn’t moved. 

“What do you want this time Zabini,” he asked tiredly.

“Nothing, nothing,” Blaise replied quickly. “Well… it’s just… can I ask you something?”

Draco weighed it up in his minded as decided he didn’t mind. He nodded. Blaise sat himself on the sofa next to him. “Ummm… it’s just… well…” Blaise began.

“Spit it out,” ordered Draco.

“I was umm wondering…” Blaise continued. “What is it you like about pain so much? ‘Cause, ummm, some of the stuff you were talking about earlier, that pretty fucking hardcore Draco, and if the rumours are true… And that thing with the shower – which I’m really sorry about by the way, I hadn’t thought that your parents might get involved, I was just worried about you – Pomfrey said if you’d stayed under the water 30 seconds longer, the burns would have been too serious to be healed with standard healing spells. And that suggested to me that you knew what you were doing – that you’d done it before I mean. And I just wanted to know… why, I guess.”

Draco actually gave his answer some thought before he replied. After all, Blaise wasn’t Pansy but they’d known each other since they were tiny and they got along well enough usually. Even if Blaise was a bit dumb.

“For most people,” Draco began. “That is, your average masochist, it’s a physiological thing. The sensors in the brain for pleasure and pain are right next to each other and sometimes messages get confused. So say spanking. The messages sent by the nerves in that person’s arse go to both the pleasure and pain sensors. So they perceive the pain as pleasurable. In that respect they’re not really masochists – they’re getting off on pleasure. People like me though… that’s harder to explain. Trust me when I say there is no way you can perceive third degree burns as pleasurable. But there’s something, cathartic I suppose, about the pain. Like when it’s hurting that much, the world is so simple. There’s just you and the pain. You don’t have to worry about anything else. And that feeling of calm, that lack of worries, is sort of addictive.

“As for the other stuff – the kinky stuff during sex – the beatings the cutting, all that stuff, I really have no idea. I’ve wondered about it myself. It’s partly that it’s been so long since I did anything vanilla that my brain now just associates pain with sex. Kind of like that muggle guy with the dogs McGonagall was talking about. But why I liked it in the first place… that’s’ anyone’s guess really. Granger would probably say it’s because I wasn’t hugged enough as a child or something. All I know is that it feels really, really good and that there is almost nothing more arousing than the feel of a really sharp knife, one that parts the skin like water, being trailed across your flesh by someone who really knows what they’re doing.”

Blaise stared at him for a minute. “Wow,” he said eventually. “Well you’ve almost convinced me.” He smirked at Draco. “Somehow you manage to make idea of being sliced open by a lover seem attractive.” He laughed.

Draco gave him a little smile. “You think this is weakness,” he stated. He hadn’t raised his voice, but his tone carried to the rest of the room, a trick he had learnt form his father. “You believe that the strong person is the one hurting the defenceless person and that the weak one is the one who taking the pain, mastering it and making it his own.” Now it was Draco’s turn to smirk. “That the weak person is the one happy to admit to his fucked up sexuality, while the strong one is the one who has to pretend he’s something he’s not because he thinks it’ll make him look cool.”

“For Merlin’s sake Draco,” Blaise said angrily. “For the hundredth time – I. Am. Bisexual. Get over it.”

Draco was living dangerously he knew, but there was something about the way Blaise so cheerfully admitted what he had to try so hard to keep hidden that made Draco’s blood boil. He was angry – so, so angry. And when he was angry he did stupid things.

“Really,” he sneered. “Prove it then.” Like that. That was a monumentally stupid thing to say. He’d really regret it later. But there was no way he could back out now, not without loosing face. To do so would be tantamount to admitting he was wrong. And Malfoy’s were never wrong.

Blaise just stared for a second, but apparently he wasn’t prepared to back down either because the next moment Blaise’s mouth slammed into Draco’s and suddenly Draco brain and his cock were at war with each other and his brain was trying desperately to remind him that Blaise was an idiot and a straight idiot and he really shouldn’t let it be seen that he was enjoying it because news travels really fast among pure bloods but it was getting really hard to think because his cock was insisting that while Blaise didn’t rival Potter, his body was hard in all the right places and he really wasn’t a bad kisser and Draco really really liked angry kissing and…

Fortunately for Draco, before he could do anything stupid, like kiss back to obviously or whimper or grind himself against Blaise – in fact all the things he’d been a few seconds away from doing - Blaise pulled away. Draco allowed himself a few seconds to compose himself before he looked up and met the other boy’s eyes.

Blaise sighed deeply. Before he could say anything Draco said, “let me guess Blaise, at first it was okay – no different from kissing a girl really but then you couldn’t really ignore the feel of my body against yours and you tried not to notice but it was all hard and flat were a girl would have been warm and squishy and there was just something indescribably wrong about it.”

Blaise nodded slowly and Draco congratulated himself. He’d managed in one go to put off Blaise without upsetting him or his very influential family while at the same time squashing any rumours (and there were usually a few) about his sexuality effectively – just denying them never worked but he’d just confirmed and dismissed them in one breath. After all the audience didn’t need to know that he was talking about how he felt with women. He really was brilliant some days.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was just settling down to sleep when he became aware that he was strangely cold and he looked up to see Blaise had pulled open the drapes on his bed. Without asking his permission, Blaise sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

Draco gave him a predatory smile (which he definitely hadn’t spent two hours in third year practising in front to the mirror) which seemed to unnerve Blaise and he gulped. “Here for round two,” Draco teased. He should probably be cross he thought, about Blaise breaking into his bed, especially when he considered that Blaise appeared to be stalking him. But he was all warm and snuggled and half asleep and it was really really hard to be snarky when he was like that. Presumably why Blaise had waited till now to ask him whatever it was he wanted to ask him. Draco sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be more sex questions. He felt he’d given the dark boy more than enough sex education for one day. Blaise gave him a little smile.

“Look Draco, I need a favour.”

Draco’s ears perked up a bit. No self respecting Slytherin would ever do anyone a favour without getting something out of it for themselves. But then, Draco thought, Blaise wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have something damn good to offer in return.

“Okay Blaise,” Draco said sleepily. “Spill. What do you need and what are you offering as reciprocation?”

Blaise smiled, confidant that Draco wouldn’t be disappointed with the trade. “What I want is for you to be my stylist for a month. I need to recover my reputation and the best way to do that is to seduce as many women as possible and I’ve got a much better chance of that with you on my side.”

Draco nodded to show that this was something he was willing to do, if offered the right compensation.

“In exchange,” Blaise continued, “I’m willing to not tell anyone about the fact that you’re gay…”

“What makes you so sure of that,” Draco demanded, interrupting him.

“Hmmm, let me see,” Blaise said good naturedly, “How about how hard you were when I kissed to earlier. And when you slammed me against the wall. And to be honest I’d suspected for ages. This was just the confirmation I needed. BUT,” he added, holding up a hand to silence Draco, “that’s more a show of good faith. My main trade is this. I’ve discovered how to temporarily remove the temperature limiters on the school showers. You help me and I’ll teach you how.”

Draco weighed up his options. Not that he really had any. He was pretty sure Blaise wouldn’t spill his secret if he didn’t agree, but it wasn’t worth the risk. And besides, the thought of a real shower was too tempting to pass up, especially if all he had to do in exchange was use a hot guy as his dress up doll. Sounded like a good deal to him.

He held out a hand to Blaise. “It’s a deal,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: In which Harry is a mass murderer, Hermione is cross and Draco is enjoying himself altogether too much! Warnings for exhibitionism with a scalpel, drunken teachers and misuse of the school showers.

Draco was cheerful. So cheerful that he was humming. Admittedly he was humming “The purebloods will once again rule the earth” (which his Grandfather used to sing with religious fervour) but still. And in his defence, it did have quite a catchy tune.

He was having a good day. He’d woken up from a particularly graphic dream involving himself, Potter, a bondage dungeon and lots of melted chocolate feeling strangely cheerful.

Then he’d got to spend nearly a whole hour playing dress up with Blaise (and groping him a fair bit into the bargain). He’d done well in all his lessons, not forgotten anything, got to spend ten minutes drooling over Potter’s fabulous arse when the other boy had been called to the front of the class by Snape because of his failed potion (a perfect combination of events in Draco’s opinion – he got to ogle the handsome boy and watch him being humiliated at the same time!), had apparently chosen a particularly fabulous outfit, based on the way Daniel Pardoe, a rather cute Slytherin fifth year, had been unable to take his eyes of Draco, it had been Chicken Casserole (Draco’s favourite food) for supper and now he was looking forward too his first proper shower in two years (his parents, concerned for his sanity, had put temperature limiting spells on the showers at home as well).

Still humming softly, Draco hung his robe on a peg in the empty prefect’s showers and began to slowly strip off his remaining clothes, long aristocratic fingers trailing teasingly over pale skin that was already supersensitive from the autumnal chill in the air. He’d been looking forward to this shower for two years and he fully intended to enjoy every minute of it.

Once he was naked (and half hard with anticipation) he stepped over too the nearest shower head. Turning the temperate up as high as it would go, Draco tapped the dial twice with his wand and whispered, “Vacuus fine finium”. Hoping against hope that Blaise had been telling the truth, he slipped his wand back into the pocket of his robes and turned on the water. He enjoyed the warmth for a minute then slowly began turning the dial up. And heaven of heavens the water got hotter. Letting himself adjust slowly, turning the dial a little at a time, he turned the temperature up to boiling and then finally, those all important last ten degrees.

It hurt, oh Merlin it hurt but it felt to sinfully good at the same time and as he basked in the heat he felt his mind go to that odd, calm place it went too to deal with pain and he felt more totally relaxed than he had in years. Just him and the pain. Nothing else mattered.

As he stood under the spray he let his mind wander, flicking through memories, trying to remember if anything had ever hurt more than this. He’d only been crucioed once. It had been at a Death Eater gathering at Malfoy Manor, soon after Voldemort’s return to power. He’d been sixteen and had inadvertently said something that offended the Dark Lord, who had immediately required Lucius to punish him. He’d done it of course: crucioed his own son. It had been agonising – like all his veins were filled with molten lead – but it had been over so quickly that it really hadn’t been anything compared with one of his showers. And when it was over he’d felt oddly unsatisfied and he’d looked up and asked for more. He’d pretended later that he was just trying to make recompense for his rash words, and the Dark Lord had believed him and had ordered Lucius to spare his son, pleased with Draco’s loyalty. But his father had seen the look in his eyes when he’d said those words and hadn’t been able to look him in the face for weeks afterwards. He wondered idly how he’d stand up to torture. He smirked. Probably freak the torturer out so much he’d give up long before he reached Draco’s pain threshold.

Draco was broken from his reverie by a noise in the main bathroom. Snapped suddenly out of his meditative state he panicked, as the full force of the pain hit him like a freight train, knocking his breath out of him. As he tried desperately to master his panic he heard his companion, whoever it was getting closer.

He had just got himself under control when he heard a gasp from behind him and an all too familiar voice, the voice that had haunted his dreams last night, cried, “Fuck Malfoy, what the hell do you think you’re doing!” Then there was a brief moment of confusion until he managed to push the other boy away before he could shut the water off.

“Don’t,” he cried, aware that he sounded panicked but not really caring. “I can only use this spell once a week without the teachers finding out! I’ve still got two minutes left before I have to get out. At least let me finish my shower in peace.”

To his amazement Potter merely nodded at him and did just that, stripping off and getting under his own stream of hot water. And now Draco had a problem. Because that sinfully good body was only inches away from his own and while he was still under the water the pain kept his arousal at bay – there were few things more painful, Draco had learnt, than a hard-on in one of his showers. But the moment he stepped out of the wonderful agonising red haze he currently inhabited, he was going to have the boner from hell.

As he stood contemplating this dilemma he suddenly realised that he had been under that boiling water for more than a minute longer than he should have. He hurriedly shut of the water and stretched his back experimentally, assessing the damage. The trickles of blood from the cracked and burnt skin felt oddly cool compared to the burning heat of the shower. He heard a little gasp from behind him and concentrated as hard as he could on the fact that he was going to have to explain this to Pomfrey and his parents. He’d probably be banned from the showers all together in fact. If his Dad didn’t have him put in St Mungo’s secure unit. That thought effectively stamped out any thoughts he was having about what a pretty noise that little gasp was, and how much he’d like to hear Potter make that again.

He dried himself off as best he could, trying to avoid touching his torn and broken back, surprised that Potter hadn’t said anything more, though he could feel the emerald gaze boring its way into the back of his skull. Then pulling his wand from the pocket of his robes he touched it gingerly to his back and whispered a healing charm. Straight away he felt the skin begin to heal, to knit up the wounds, and the pain dulled. And then it stopped. He couldn’t see his back but he was pretty sure that while better, it still looked awful.

“Hey Potter,” he called over his shoulder. “How’s my back look?”

“Like you were just mauled by Greyback’s entire pack,” came the calm reply. Draco was seriously impressed. He’d genuinely been expecting Potter to run screaming to the headmaster. Apparently he wasn’t such a goody goody as he seemed. Then Draco froze as he felt cool fingers against his tender new skin of his back. And tried desperately to imagine Snape naked because while Potter wasn’t trying to hurt him, he wasn’t exactly being gentle either and it stung like mad where Potter was touching him, but in a good way. A very very good way. He seemed to be stroking Draco back – tracing the remaining tears in the skin, presumably assessing the damage and Draco just knew that if he didn’t stop soon he was going to start whimpering and moaning and then Potter really would go running to the headmaster. Then just before he gave up and gave in to the delicious sensations Potter’s rough handling was causing, the cool, broom calloused hand withdrew from his back and Potter’s voice filtered through to his overloaded brain.

“What?” he asked dazedly.

“I said,” Potter replied in a vaguely amused tone that made Draco want to hit him, “that if we both attempted to heal it at the same time that might be enough power to fix things.”

Draco started back unconsciously. “There is no way I’m letting you put your wand anywhere near me!” he cried.

Potter sighed exasperatedly. “Your choice. Shall I tell Pomfrey that you did it deliberately or will you?” There was a hint of vindictiveness in Potter’s voice, barely disguised by sarcasm, that hinted to Draco that Potter wasn’t joking.

Sighing he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said resignedly. “But use medicor, not caedo dolor.”

Potter stared at him for a moment then said, “But that will only heal – it wont kill the pain. And healing without painkillers is quite painful.”

Draco nodded slowly, glad he’d finally got through Potter’s thick skull. “Yes Potter, I am aware of that. I am also well aware that medicor is usually only used in situations where the patient is allergic or immune to painkilling magic or in battle when there isn’t time for painkillers. But I want you to use mediocre. It’s my back. If I say I can take it then I can. You’ll have to take my word on it.”

He thought he heard Potter snort but he made no more protests. He felt the hard wood of Potter’s wand press against his back and was disappointed that he was really in too much pain to properly appreciate the irony of it. He stretched round awkwardly to touch his own wand tip to his back and together they whispered “Medicore.”

Draco knew instantly that it had worked. He could feel the skin fusing shut along the tears and that odd fizzy feeling that he knew was his skin cells regenerating at double speed. It wasn’t painful really, just odd but Draco rather liked that sensation – he felt more healed, more regenerated somehow if he could feel it happening. At last when he was sure that he wouldn’t interrupt the healing process by moving he rolled his shoulders – big circular movements that stretched every muscle in his back and left him feeling limp and boneless. Well, most of him.

Potter coughed awkwardly and Draco realised he was trying hard not to look at Draco’s erection. The healing had wilted it somewhat – it really was a weird feeling – but Potter’s rough handling had really turned him on so even that wasn’t enough to quash his over enthusiastic sex drive.

Draco decided it was best to just ignore it. Trying to explain would be even more embarrassing. So coughing slightly he held out a hand to   
Potter and said awkwardly and formally, “Thank you very much. I owe you.”

Potter grinned in what Draco thought was a slightly mocking way but he shook Draco’s hand. But when Draco went to pull away Potter tightened his grip. “Before you go,” he said softly, “tell me why you did that if you weren’t going to be able to heal it by yourself?”

Draco baulked slightly at this but on the other hand, he did owe Potter a monumental favour so he answered, “I should have been able to heal it – you have nine minutes and about 20 seconds under boiling water before the injuries are too serious to be able to heal yourself. I wouldn’t have stayed in that long but you distracted me and I lost track of what time it was.”

Potter grinned cheekily. “I distract you do I?” he teased. “Am I really that sexy?”

“Merlin yes,” Draco wanted to say. Instead he answered, “No I just meant that you coming in interrupted my counting.”

Potter pouted slightly in feigned upset and pulled his hand form Draco’s, scraping his nails across Draco sensitive palm as he did so, sending little shivers of pleasure coursing down Draco’s spine. He pulled away quickly.

“Um… thanks anyway,” he said awkwardly and, collecting his belongings he moved into the main bathroom. You couldn’t wash under boiling water. And anyway a long bath was just the thing he needed to sooth his frazzled nerves.

He filled the huge tub with as many scented bubbles as he possibly could, partly because Draco was almost as addicted to scented bubbles as he was really hot showers, and partly because Potter was going to have to walk past in a minute on his way out and Draco did not want Potter too see just how turned on he was.

He floated in the warm water, barely visible amongst the mountains of bubbles, thinking nothing, just enjoying the warmth of the water seeping into his bones, making him calm and happy. After a few minutes Potter emerged from the showers, his hair even more spiky and messy than usual from being towel dried, wearing his robe open and as he turned to glance at the top of Draco’s head emerging from the bubbles, Draco noticed something. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He gulped slightly.

“Potter,” he said, attempting his usual casual drawl, “would you care to tell me why you’re wandering round the castle half naked?”

Potter grinned. “Hardly half Malfoy. Maybe one third. And I’m one third naked because my shirt is covered in your blood. I dropped it on the floor by where you were standing when I healed you. I thought I’d just leave it there and see how long it takes for the Prophet to report that I’ve become an axe murderer.” He ruffled his hair, an unconscious habit that had always infuriated Draco – as though it wasn’t bad enough already without him making it worse. “Anyway, see you around Malfoy.

And with that he left, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts and a very large hard on.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He’d hoped to avoid Potter for the remainder of the evening but unfortunately for Draco it was defence club which he attended for two reasons – partly because he actually learnt quite a lot of useful stuff but mainly for reason two – it infuriated Weasley.

When at the end of sixth year when Potter had proposed making his stupid DA open to all students – more like the old duelling club except that it was actually useful – Weasley had been vehemently opposed. They’d had one of their more major bust-ups over it actually. But eventually Potter had persuaded him (or rather Draco thought, Granger had used her feminine wiles – what few of them she had – on him) but he was never happy about it. And that was a good enough reason for Draco to give up his Thursday evenings to attend.

Potter was actually quite a good teacher and of course they had to have teacher supervision now they were official. Usually it was Flitwick – he had a lot of free periods Thursday afternoon which meant he had the smallest workload by the evening. But mostly the teachers left them too it, just checking up occasionally – usually to give Draco and the Weasel king detention which Draco felt was unfair. Clearly Weasley deserved everything Draco threw at him – anyone with that many freckles did.

“This week,” Potter announced from the head table (they’d moved to the great hall because so many students joined), “we’ll be practising our healing charms. And I’m sure it’s obvious that to do that you’re gonna need some injuries to heal.” At this point he gestured to a small table by his feet with an embarrassed look on his face. The crowd leant forward to see what was in the box and most of them recoiled shrieking. By the time Draco had fought his way to the front of the crowd to look he already had a pretty good idea of what the box held, but it still made him shiver in anticipation when the saw the neatly stacked piles of scalpels in the box. He stared at them for a long time when he suddenly became aware that Potter was talking again. “… want to leave,” he was saying, “it’s perfectly understandable and I’m sure you’ll pick up the spells on your own. They’re not especially complex. So, um, if you want to go…” There was a stampede before he’d finished speaking. Pretty much the only people left once the chaos had subsided were the original DA members and Draco. He’d nearly left but, as Potter said, these were useful spells and not especially complex and well… It was just too tempting. Especially the thought of watching the Gryffindorks injure each other. He suspected there’d be tears. But the thought at the forefront of his mind was ‘how the fuck is Potter getting away with this. Why hasn’t the supervising teacher stopped him?’ 

A moment later Draco had this question answered because the doors of the hall swung open and revealed… Sybil Trelawney, a half finished bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a drunken smile on her face. “Hello class,” she trilled, not even bothering to put on a voice. “You all alright? Jolly good.” She hadn’t even waited for a reply. “I’ll just be off to bed then. Nighty night my precious ducklings!” And weaving slightly she began to attempt the stairs back up tot her tower.

Draco counted slowly to ten in his head – giving her time to get out of hearing range – before he burst out laughing. “You Potter are priceless!” he declared. “I’m not going to ask what you had to bribe Flitwick to trade with her. Or where she got the whisky from when we all know very well McGonagall won’t allow any booze in the castle in case she finds it. You really are something else.” He whipped his eyes, and shut up. Potter was giving him something that was half glare and half smirk. A glirk maybe. Or could be a smare.

“As I was saying,” Potter continued. Oh dear. That last one was definitely a glare. He mentally sat up and paid attention. Couldn’t have Potter chucking him out of the club. It was now his main forum for Weasel baiting, his favourite sport. “There are two main healing spells. The first and most common is the one we will be practising first. It’s called caedo dolor. The reason that it’s used most often is that it’s also a painkiller and because the patient can’t feel the wound healing. The second one is called Medicore. This is in many ways the more useful of the two. It’s really a battlefield spell as it heals wounds much more quickly that caedo dolor BUT it doesn’t have any painkilling properties and you can feel the wound healing which I’ve never felt but I’m assured is a really weird feeling, sometime even painful depending on the nature of the wound being healed. What I’m proposing is that we get into pairs and you can take it in turns – one of you wounds yourself and the other heals it. When I’m satisfied that all of you have grasped Caedo dolor then we’ll move onto Medicore.”

The group began pairing up, Draco as usually simply waiting to see who had drawn the short straw and had been condemned to partnering him. After a few seconds the group parted to reveal the only person left – Potter. Draco gave him a sunny smile that he had calculated to be just to cheerful to be reassuring and was pleased to see he had been right when Potter shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Granger and the Weasel with a pleading look. However he came over to join Draco, pulling two scalpels out of his pocket and passing one to Draco.

“Shall we get started then?” he asked. He rolled up his sleeve and pressed the sharp blade of the scalpel against his skin, grimacing as he dragged it down. Draco gulped and made a little whimpering noise under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear. He had a major knife play fetish. There was almost nothing he wouldn’t do for an attractive man with a sharp knife and watching the blood well up either side of the blade as Potter pressed down was doing unsavoury things to his nether regions.

Potter lifted his scalpel away from the shallow cut and Draco pulled his robes over his crotch. Then hesitating only for second he pressed his wand to the end of the cut and whispered “Caedo dolor.” He watched, fascinated as the skin sealed itself before his eyes. It was only after it had healed that he became aware that the entire room had been silent – watching them intently. Whatever it was they wanted seemed to have been found though, as they all went back to their task without sparing Potter and Draco a second glance.

Draco healed Potter twice more before Draco insisted that they switch over. Potter seemed oddly nervous but finally relented and admitted that Draco was as good at that spell as Madam Pomfrey and he really didn’t need to practise it any more.

Draco had honestly intended, when he pulled the blade from his pocket, to make the cut as quickly as possible, to not allow himself to think about how good it felt. He was sure Potter was freaked out enough from the shower incident earlier – indulging his knife play fetishes in front of most of Gryffindor definitely would not help him on his quest to get into Potter knickers.

But then the cold edge of the blade was pressed against his skin and it promised pain and blood and after all, Draco was a masochist. He liked to deny himself – draw out the anticipation for as long as possible before he finally gave him to his desires. So he didn’t press down – didn’t break the skin – not straight away. He ran the blade down the blue line of a vein, pressing hard enough to make him whimper quietly but not hard enough to cut. Everywhere the blade touched felt like it was on fire with pleasure and it felt like someone was setting off fireworks in his spine. Eventually he couldn’t take it any more. He gasped as he felt the blade break the skin and he dragged it down, making a cut much larger than was strictly necessary. He’d meant to keep quiet, he honestly had, but even that small burst of pain was a kind of release and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to stop him making any other noise.

When he looked up he discovered Granger, who was working closest to them, was staring at him oddly. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “You are one sick motherfucker Draco Malfoy” and turned back to her partner.

Harry on the other hand was staring fixedly at Draco’s wrist, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off the trickle of red spilling from the wound which bled sluggishly. ‘He looks like he’s going to faint,’ Draco thought. ‘He didn’t seem afraid of blood earlier. In fact he was calmer than I’d have been in his situation.’

He waved a hand on front of the other boy’s faces. “Are you going to heal this or not,” he asked.

He could see Potter mentally shaking himself. “Sorry,” he muttered and pressed his wand to the wound. The sudden pain made Draco flinch slightly. “Sorry,” Potter said again. “Cae…” But Draco had jerked his arm away before he could finish.

“I told you earlier,” Draco said. “Not that one. Use Medicore. I don’t like people using Caedo dolor on me.”

“But that’s what we’re practising.” Potter sounded exasperated. “At least tell me why not.”

Draco blushed. “It makes my head all pink and fuzzy,” he muttered. “I can’t think properly, it clouds the senses. And anyway… Ilikethepain.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit and maybe he hadn’t heard but he clearly had and Draco thought Potter was about to have a heart attack. His breathing was suddenly very shallow and he was almost but not quite shaking and he kept rubbing his tongue against the point of his right canine – a nervous habit he seemed to have developed recently. And when he licked his lips nervously Draco noticed his tongue was oddly red as though he’d cut himself. Draco quickly dismissed that thought and simply waited patiently for him to reply.

Eventually Potter collected himself and pressed his wand to the wound on Draco’s arm – pressing a little harder than was strictly necessary. Draco gasped a little at the pain and then Potter whispered “Medicore” and there was that bizarre hot feeling and he could feel his arm healing itself. And then there was no wound and Potter’s face was oddly blank. Draco hugged himself miserably. It was going to take a lot of work to salvage this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: In which Harry has trouble concentrating and Hermione is sympathetic. Warnings for kinky teenagers, mental cobwebs and Hermione’s new perfume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV

Harry shook his head, mentally trying to clear the cobwebs. Most of the cobwebs consisted of watching blood collect at the bottom of a tear in perfect marble skin and run in gory rivulets over Draco Malfoy’s pert arse. And as cobwebs went, that was a pretty fucking big one. Trying to clear it just by shaking his head was like trying to kill Aragog with a teaspoon. A plastic teaspoon.

In fact as far as Harry was concerned possibly the only way to salvage his sanity was suicide. And really even that might not help get that image out of his head.

The worst thing was that until a matter of months ago, Harry would have been disgusted by that image. And if he’d been told then that in six months time, mentally watching a frame by frame replay of a bloody tear appearing in Malfoy’s back as though he was being unzipped would be the biggest turn on he’d known for years… Actually he’d probably have done nothing because he’d be too freaked out to react. ‘Bloody fantastic,’ he mentally grumbled to himself. ‘The way to defeat Harry Potter, the boy who lived, saviour of the wizarding world etc etc is to tell him his future.’

And now he had to spend an hour trying really really hard to just ignore him and pretend that witnessing Slytherin’s bizarre self-harming rituals was perfectly normal. In fact it was so normal that he’d forgotten all about it and would never ever mention it again. Of think of it if he could manage it. Which, his 17 year old brain informed him, was never going to happen.

He was early to defence club as usual so he set about moving furniture to make space for them to work. Although he didn’t think they’d need much this week. The spell was a contact based one rather than long range and anyway it was highly unlikely that many people would stay. Which was a shame because they really were very useful spells. But still, it was probably for the best. Normally he’d have been fine, but his encounter with Malfoy-and-his-kinks-that-were-so-bizarre-that-Harry-just-wasn’t-going-to-ask-and-that-definitely-didn’t-turn-him-on-in-any-way-at-all had shaken his self control and he didn’t know how he’d cope if a big group decided to stay.

People began trickling in in ones and twos, chatting quietly. He waited a few minutes to see how many arrived, feeling extremely self conscious, standing at the front of the dais for the head table, where Dumbledore’s lectern used to stand. Eventually he decided that probably no one else was coming and even if they were, they’d probably leave again in a few seconds so…

“Ummmm, er hi,” he began. Wonderful Harry he groused in his mind. Just show them all how nervous you are – that’ll definitely encourage them to stay. “This week we’ll be practising our healing charms. And I’m sure it’s obvious that to do that you’re gonna need some injuries to heal.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the box, hoping that it didn’t cause mass panic, but sure it would. He was right.

The people closest to the box peered forward. Then one of them – Harry thought it was Susan Bones but he couldn’t be sure, screamed. And there we have it, Harry thought gloomily. Mass panic. At least you probably won’t have to deal with Malfoy. Even the original DA members were looking nervous. Malfoy on the other hand, Harry noticed when he searched out the Platinum head amongst the crowd, was staring fixedly at the contents of the box with a strange expression Harry couldn’t quite place on his face.

“Er, so if you want to leave its perfectly understandable and I’m sure you’ll pick up the spells on your own,” Harry continued once the fuss had died down. “They’re not especially complex. So, um, if you want to go…”  
Most of the class stampeded, like gazelle that’ve just realised that that log in their drinking water is a crocodile. ‘I wonder how long it will take for this to get into the Prophet,’ Harry thought. ‘First the shirt and now this – Rita Skeeter will probably cum in her knickers from the excitement of finally having proof of how insane and dangerous I am.’

Harry scanned the heads of the remaining class mates – almost everyone had left – all that remained were the old DA and Malfoy. Mostly people looked concerned, some even looked downright scared, but they all trusted Harry implicitly. And after all, he was right. He knew he was right. These were spells they all needed to know and how else were they supposed to practise them? Couldn’t exactly wait until they were on the battlefield and a friend was injured – that left far too much up to chance. Actually there was one person who didn’t look terrified – Malfoy. He was still staring at the box of scalpels with an oddly dreamy expression on his face. Harry snorted slightly. ‘Probably fantasising about watching Gryffindor’s injure each other’ he thought. ‘Wondering if Ginny will cry. She probably will too – after all she did when Hermione pierced her ears for her.’ Harry sighed. He did not need to be thinking about Ginny right now. Down that route lay madness. And being beaten to death by Ron. And all sorts of bad things.

Harry was broken from this gloomy reverie by the sound of the Great Hall doors slamming opening, revealing Proffessor Trelawney, in all her alcoholic glory. She was definitely swaying and a half empty bottle of firewhiskey was clutched in one hand. Harry panicked. She was not supposed to leave her tower! This was not part of the plan! It had taken him weeks to work out how to smuggle the whisky into the school, and now she doesn’t even stay put! But before he could say anything she slurred, “Hello class, you all alright? Jolly good. I’ll just be off to bed then. Nighty night my precious ducklings!” Then waving her bottle in a sort of half salute (and spilling some of the contents down the front of her tie dyed robe) she staggered out again and began to attempt the stairs. She didn’t seem to be managing them very well.

There was a long silence, eventually broken by the doors swinging shut again. That seemed to jerk everyone out of their shocked state because Malfoy – bloody Malfoy of all people – burst out laughing. Harry had never seen him laugh that hard at anything – even the time he’d transformed Ron’s school robes into a rather racy number in Barbie pink lace. “You Potter are priceless!” Malfoy gasped in between uncontrollable guffaws. “I’m not going to ask what you had to bribe Flitwick to trade with her. Or where she got the whisky from when we all know very well McGonagall won’t allow any booze in the castle in case she finds it. You really are something else.” Malfoy whipped his eyes and sighed happily. Harry was attempting to give him his “If I can survive Voldemort’s bajillion attempts to murder me then I can turn you back into the ferret you are”, patented death stare. Except that really it had been quite funny. Although not as funny as the sight of Malfoy giggling.

When he was sure Malfoy had finished, Harry continued, “As I was saying…” He paused to give Malfoy a proper glare, and bizarrely it seemed to work. Malfoy gave Harry a “who me?” look but he stood up a bit straighter and seemed to now be paying attention. “As I was saying,” Harry repeated, “there are two main healing spells. The first and most common is the one we will be practising first. It’s called caedo dolor. The reason that it’s used most often is that it’s also a painkiller and because that the patient can’t feel the wound healing. The second one is called Medicore. This is in many ways the more useful of the two. It’s really a battlefield spell as it heals wounds much more quickly that caedo dolor BUT it doesn’t have any painkilling properties and you can feel the wound healing which I’ve never felt but I’m assured is a really weird feeling, sometime even painful depending on the nature of the wound being healed. What I’m proposing is that we get into pairs and you can take it in turns – one of you wounds yourself and the other heals it. When I’m satisfied that all of you have grasped Caedo dolor then we’ll move onto Medicore.”

Nodding to the group, Harry jumped down from the dais and went to collect a couple of scalpels. Then he waited patiently while everyone else paired up. When he’d told Hermione what he was planning she hadn’t been happy. She agreed that it was necessary and no she couldn’t think of an alternative but still… she was not happy. So she’d decreed that as punishment for this he was pairing Malfoy this week. And when Hermione made a declaration Gryffindor sat up and listened. She was one scary woman when she was thwarted.

Eventually everyone was paired up except Harry and Malfoy, who as usual was simply waiting to see who pulled the short straw this week. Then the crowd parted ‘As though I were Juliet meeting the gate-crashing Capulets,’ Harry thought to himself and then giggled at the thought of Malfoy in a cod piece and tights. But when he met Malfoy’s eye and saw the look of unholy glee on Malfoy’s face he swallowed his pride and gave Hermione puppy dog eyes in the hope that she’d take pity on him. She raised one eyebrow and looked at him with a merciless lack of pity for a second then turned back to Neville, whom she was partnering.

Sighing deeply, and wondering at the deplorable lack of human feeling amongst his housemates, he went over to join his partner – who was still, he noticed, grinning like a Satanist who’d been given a carving knife and free access to a convent school.

Harry pulled the scalpels from his pocket and handed one to Malfoy. “Shall we get started then?” Harry asked and before Malfoy could reply he pressed the sharp blade into his skin and felt the blood well up. Everything went quiet suddenly and his vision fogged. He breathed deeply and the smell of his own blood brought him back to earth. It also made him feel slightly queasy. He couldn’t get used to that smell – it smelt wrong somehow – stale and maybe a bit sickly.

He said nothing, just tried to ignore the sickness as Malfoy pressed his wand to the wound, quickly healing it. Once there was no sign of the wound, just smooth new skin – and his class mates decided Malfoy was unlikely to do anything interesting or death eaterish - a low hubbub of chat ebbed back into the room and people began returning to the task in hand. Slowly the smell of blood filtered into his nostrils, no matter how hard he tied to ignore it. There was Ron’s and Neville’s, both of which he recognised easily because they were both so accident prone. Then Ginny’s – that sweet, warming smell that always reminded Harry of mulled wine and which made every nerve in his body sing with need, even after all this time. He quickly put that out of his mind. He would not think about Ginny at all if he could help it, and especially not that night. He picked out one that could only be Hermione’s, mixed in amongst the others – it was fruity and sharp, like white wine and he smiled. It actually smelled a lot like a perfume she’d brought the other day. He wondered idly how freaked she’d be if he told her. He vaguely wondered if the slightly bitter deep note that reminded him of Guinness was Seamus’.

Malfoy was staring at him oddly and he suddenly realised he’d zoned out. He shook himself. Even after so many months these smells, these sensations, were still all new to him and he found them very distracting. Hoping to wake himself up he took the scalpel and dragged it down his arm again, following the line of the cut Malfoy has just healed. And there it was again – that cloyingly sweet, but somehow musty smell of his own dead blood.

Malfoy healed him again, quickly and efficiently. They repeated the process of couple of times more and Harry recognised he was trying to delay switching over. He was managing okay with the smell of dead blood clearing his head, but without it… and especially with Malfoy’s blood so close to him... But there really was no way he could put it off any longer. Malfoy was already as good as Madam Pomfrey at that spell.

Malfoy pulled the scalpel out of the pocket of his school robes and then hesitated. He didn’t look scared exactly, but there was definitely some apprehension in his eyes.

But then he did press the knife to his skin and suddenly Harry couldn’t look away – it was as though everything faded away until there was just Harry and Malfoy and nothing else existed and oh god did Malfoy just whimper? And when Harry dragged his eyes away from the knife and the thoroughly sinful things Malfoy was doing with it for a second and glanced at his face and God he’d thought watching Malfoy shower earlier was sexy but the look in his eyes – the one which told Harry in no uncertain terms just how much he was enjoying himself – was in a whole different league. And the thought that Malfoy enjoyed the pain – that he wouldn’t be freaked out if his lover hurt him during sex… Harry thoughts were clouding over and suddenly his senses where a hundred times more sensitive but every brain cell that hadn’t committed suicide from unsatisfied lust was focused totally on this beautiful, twisted creature before him and then he heard a gasp and dropped his vision to the scalpel and his mouth went dry at the sight of Malfoy’s gorgeous blood welling up and it was taking every iota of self control he had not to give into his instincts because clearly this creature should be his and he really was having trouble remembering why he shouldn’t throw him down over the nearest flat surface and do erotic and probably highly illegal things to him because all he could smell now was Draco’s blood and his skin and it smelt so good and surely Draco wouldn’t mind if he just had a quick taste and now Draco’s staring at him and God he has beautiful eyes and Hermione’s saying something but it probably isn’t important – in fact nothing mattered anymore except claiming this beautiful creature as his as soon as possible…

“Are you going to heal this or not?” Draco’s drawl filtered through the fog, waking him and bringing him at least closer to earth. And suddenly Harry was mortified and hoping like hell Malfoy hadn’t noticed but knowing that Hermione would have done and that Harry was in for one hell of a lecture later on, because he was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life and every instinct was still telling him that there was something inherently wrong with any universe where Malfoy didn’t belong to him.

Trying his best to concentrate and ignore the wine rich smell of Malfoy’s blood, he muttered a quick “Sorry,” and pressed his wand to the wound on Malfoy’s arm and muttered “Cae…” but before he could finish Malfoy jerked his arm away.

“I told you earlier, not that one. Use Medicore. I don’t like people using Caedo dolor on me.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly. That last thing he needed was for Malfoy to prolong the process and risk doing more damage to Harry’s already delicate sanity. But all the same he had to ask… “At least tell me why not?”

‘Do mine eyes deceive me?’ Harry wondered, ‘or did Draco Malfoy just blush?’ “It makes my head all pink and fuzzy,” Malfoy muttered. “I can’t think properly, it clouds the senses. And anyway… Ilikethepain.”

Harry’s brain nearly shut down again at that and he scraped his tongue along his right cusped, cutting it, hoping that the taste of his own blood would bring him back to earth. It made him feel distinctly nauseous but it did the trick. Harry pressed his wand to the wound, unable to stop himself hurting the other boy, just a little, just to watch the pleasure it ignited in his companions eyes and hear that little gasp he made. He healed the cut and was suddenly aware that eyes – almost definitely Hermione’s - were boring their way into the back of his skull. He sighed deeply – he was in for one hell of a lecture.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Well?” Hermione asked once they were safely back in Gryffindor tower.

Harry ducked his head so she wouldn’t see his guilty expression or the blush creeping up his neck when he thought of the look on Malfoy’s face when Harry had poked his wounded arm.

“Well?” Hermione asked again and this time there was a definite steely note in her voice. Harry looked up at her and saw that not only did she have her arms crossed she was also tapping her foot - a sure sign that she was preparing to dish out doom and brimstone to any who dared defy her.

“Well what?” Harry asked innocently.

“Don’t you well what me Harry James Potter,” Hermione said, tapping her foot in a way that sent several first years who were up late running for their dorms. “I want to know exactly what is going on with you and Malfoy. And don’t even think about lying to me. You’re rubbish at it!”

“I… um…” Harry began, trying desperately to think of a way out of answering the question. He knew it was hopeless though. “Nothing’s going on ‘Mione,” he answered her, hoping she’d accept this. It was basically the truth anyway.

“Nothing’s going on my arse,” Hermione answered dismissively. “I saw the way you were staring at him. One minute you’re fine – I was really proud of you by the way Harry, you’re getting a lot more control over your instincts – next minute you’re shaking, your fangs are there for all to see and you’re staring at Malfoy like a man lost in the desert who’s just spotted water. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Harry paled slightly. He hadn’t realised he had been so obvious. “Do you think anyone noticed?” he asked.

Hermione suddenly realised what she’d said and the blood drained from her face. “No Harry, I didn’t really mean it like that – I just meant you weren’t very subtle about the fact that you’re interested in him,” she quickly reassured him. “I’d be amazed if no one noticed that but I’m sure no one noticed anything else. It was just that I was looking out for it. And I’ve learnt all the little signs that tell me when your instincts are taking over. But you still haven’t told me what was going on!”

“I told you ‘Mione, I don’t know,” Harry said exasperatedly. “Look you saw him, I know you did. You can’t tell me that’s not hot?”

Hermione looked scandalised. “Harry I can’t believe you just said that. He was cutting himself. Self harming. What exactly is there in that image that could possibly be considered hot?!”

Harry sighed. “I know Mione. I am well aware of how fucked up that is. But try to look at it from my point of view. I mean my mental shields were already being worn down by being in a room full of people bleeding. Not to mention the smell of Ginny’s blood, which I still find totally irresistible. Every bit of my self control was concentrated on how I couldn’t have blood, how I mustn’t hurt anyone. And then I’m confronted with the sight of Malfoy clearly enjoying being hurt. And all my instincts are happily pointing out that I can’t think of any possible reason why I can’t jump him, given that he probably wouldn’t object, at least to the pain. And the smell of his blood – it’s indescribable – and I so rarely get to feed from a person rather than those horrible blood potions that Madam Pomfrey gives me. So yeah a dying man who just spotted water does pretty accurately describe who I felt.”

“That’s one thing but I still don’t really understand why you were looking at him like him cutting himself was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen!”

“Because it was!” Harry exclaimed. “I know it’s sick but it’s watching Malfoy cut himself and get of on it was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever seen and it took every inch of my self control not to jump him. It doesn’t help that he’s pretty easy on the eyes.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sighed. “Life is never easy for you is it?” It was a rhetorical question but he shook his head anyway. Hermione gave him a hug and then said “Wait, what do you mean you could smell Ginny’s blood – can you differentiate between individuals by smell?”

Harry smiled; glad that Hermione’s curiosity had overcome her natural protectiveness and nodded. “Wow! I knew your sense of smell was improved but I didn’t know how much. This could be really useful – I mean you could always find injured people on a battle field. And I have to ask – what does my blood smell like?”

Harry smiled. “Lovely,” he said. “Exactly like how I imagined. Sharp and fruity and sort of cold – it reminds me of dry white wine. It suits you – sophisticated and elegant but young and fresh too.”

Hermione blushed prettily and dropped her eyes briefly then looked up and gave him a happy if slightly bemused smile. “That’s on of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,” she said. “Yet at the same time one of the strangest.”

Harry gave her a wan smile. “If you’d wanted normal ‘Mione,” he said, “You would’ve run away years ago.”

She put one arm round his shoulders and gave him a half hug. “Very true,” she said. “So how are we going to set you and Malfoy up?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: In which Pansy plots, Blaise proves useful and Draco does very little except his hair. Warnings for more plot points than well writen story (sorry), an offensive mirror and more of Draco's singing.

“Okay how about this,” Pansy said, bouncing up to Draco. “We set Blaise and the Weaslette up?”

Draco stared at Pansy for a long time trying to work out if she’d gone bonkers. “Pansy, far be it from me to question you but what the hell are you talking about?”

“Your little obsession,” she explained calmly. “You’ve got no hope of properly seducing Potter without some insider information. And Blaise is single and frankly I’m sick of him hitting of me all the time. He does look great at the moment – all thanks to you of course – but I prefer a boyfriend with more than three brain cells. But Weaslette is not known for her fussiness when it comes to guys and she’s chatty. Plus she’s one of the most open minded of the Gryffindorks when it comes to dating guys from other houses – she might even put in a good word for you with Potter! And if nothing else we can find out stuff like Potter’s kinks. They were a couple until this summer so she should have all the juicy details.”

Draco just continued to stare at her while the details of the plan sank in. Then he grinned. “You are truly brilliant Pansy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve sworn off all women, I’d kiss you.”

Pansy blew him a kiss and bowed to an imaginary audience. “Thank you thank you, I’m here all week,” she said, grinning cheekily at Draco. “So now we just need a way to get them together and you’re as good as in Potter’s knickers.”

Draco grinned, not caring that Malfoy’s don’t grin. But then nor do they want to get into Potter’s knickers so what the hell!

“I know!” Pansy exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll have a word with Granger. She’s close to the Weaslette and I’m sure she’ll listen to me. She probably believes in inter house unity and everything. Actually that would be good – I could tell her it would boost inter house unity!” She clapped her hands together excitedly, pleased that she had a workable plan. “Okay Draco, you talk to Blaise. Drop a few hints. Remember to be fairly obvious, Blaise’s intelligence is barely worthy of Slytherin. But with a mother like that where else could they put him? At least he hasn’t killed any of his ex’s yet!”

Draco nodded vaguely. He was already happily planning how he was going to get the message through Blaise’s thick skull.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was up early so as to have plenty of time to get ready before he had to start getting Blaise ready. With the incident at Defence club to contend with he had to look doubly irresistible to make up for lost ground. 

He’d showered the night before so he didn’t spend very much time in the bathroom. After all he needed every moment he could get with his wardrobe.

Draco’s wardrobe was not a standard Hogwarts one. Of course not. He’d brought his own from home. It was charmed to be twice as big inside as outside. This was particularly important during the first term of any year as because of the awkward placing of the term he needed both his summer and winter wardrobes. It was incredibly neat – obsessively so in fact. But then it was so big he’d never have found anything otherwise. So it was divided into summer and winter, then subdivided by item type, then subdivided again by colour. There was one huge section devoted just to school uniform. After all, Draco was hardly going to wear the standard issue uniform. His had all been hand crafted for him by the finest magical tailors.

He selected a particularly good pair of black dress trousers, rather than his usual school ones and a white cotton shirt. It was spelled to be crease proof like all his cloths. It also wouldn’t discolour, even if it was washed with something bright red. Then his school tie was added to the pile along with socks and underwear. Then finally one of his finely tailored school robes.

As he dressed he considered what to do with his hair. He still liked it gelled back out of his eyes but he was reliably informed that it looked better left loose. Unfortunately it also drove him bonkers like that – always flopping in his eyes and tickling his nose. In the end he compromised. He pushed it back, out of his eyes but just used a little hair spray to hold it so that it fell naturally.

Once he was dressed he fastened his cuffs with his Malfoy crest cuff links. Slipping the seal ring that was always worn by the heirs to the Malfoy title onto the middle finger of his left hand he surveyed himself in the mirror.

“Very nice,” it said approvingly. “Much smarter than those muggle clothes you wear at weekends.” The mirror had been given him by his father and it seemed to have his father’s conservative opinions about style because it was always extremely critical if he wore muggle clothing. If the mirror got its own way he would, he was pretty sure, be wearing full dress robes everyday. It really didn’t approve if he wore make-up, even just a little eyeliner, which he applied now. A soft charcoal coloured kohl pencil which defined and highlighted his eyes without being noticeable. Without it his face looked strangely naked because of his pale, almost invisible eyelashes. Of course Potter had perfect long dark eyelashes. Which was simply more evidence of the unfairness of the world – after all Potter didn’t even care what he looked like.

Ignoring the mirror’s muttered comments about him ruining his good looks and how did he ever expect any self respecting witch to like him when he wore more make-up than her, he performed one final hair check and shut the wardrobe doors, muffling the mirror’s criticisms.

Blaise’s head was barely visible under his mounds of sheets. His mother lived in the south of France and Blaise struggled to adjust to the Scottish weather, especially in the winter term. As well as the sheet and thick eiderdown provided by the school, he had brought his own thick velvet blankets with him, which he piled on top.

Smiling slightly Draco shook Blaise by the shoulder. Blaise grunted slightly and half opened one eye.

“S still night time,” he muttered. “Go ‘way.”

Grinning broadly Draco bent down and put his mouth close to Blaise’s ear. “If you don’t get up,” he whispered, running one hand down Blaise’s back “then I might have to get in there with you!”

It was remarkable how quickly Blaise got up at that. Whistling “Muggleborns will burn like the worms they are,” (another of his grandfather’s repertoire) Draco began rifling through Blaise’s wardrobe, flinging clothes at him. It was a good thing that Blaise’s mother still bought all his clothes for him or he’d probably still be wearing his uniform from first year. Blaise did not care one bit about clothes and knew even less, but he had the utmost respect for those who did and he obediently put on what ever Draco threw at him, regardless of the fact that every outfit he tried on looked identical to him.

“So which girl exactly is it you’ve got your eye on?” Draco asked as he made Blaise change for the 10th time. “There’s no point even trying the Slytherin’s in our year – Pansy’s just not interested, Millicent definitely isn’t interested what with her now batting for the other team and Daphne’s already had you, and you know she make’s a point of never having any guy twice.”

Blaise considered. “I don’t really know. There’s a few okay looking girls in Ravenclaw. Obviously Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are of limits, which kind of limits me.”

“Hufflepuffs yes,” Draco said “for obvious reasons. But I see no reason why you shouldn’t date a Gryffindor. Actually I find the image of you and one of Potter’s little cabal strangely amusing.”

“Really?” Blaise sounded amazed. “Well I do have my eye on one of them actually, but I thought it probably wasn’t worth the scandal. But if you and Pansy back me up…”

“Of course we would,” Draco said smoothly, amazed at his luck. “As long as you’re not metaphorically sleeping with the enemy I see no reason why you shouldn’t do it literally. It’s the Weasleyette you’re interested in I take it?”

Blaise looked amazed. “How did you know?”

“Bend your head forward a bit, you’re too tall,” Draco said, producing a tub of gel and rubbing a little on his fingers. “Because the only Gryffindor females who are close to Potter are Granger and Weasley junior. Given that the only person in the universe to be interested in Granger is the elder Weasley, and anyway you’ve never liked girls who are cleverer than you, it’s got to be the ginger wonder.”

“So you really don’t mind?” Blaise sounded amazed.

“I’ll tell you what,” Draco said as he put the finishing touches to Blaise’s hair, “I give you my public support and backing and in return you pump the littlest weasel for information on Potter’s sex life.”

Blaise straightened up. “Why are you interested?” he asked challengingly.

“Blaise think about it. It’s Potter’s sex life. Are you telling me you’re not utterly fascinated? And don’t forget the possibility of some really excellent blackmail.”

Blaise grinned and nodded and held out his hand - “It’s a deal.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was sitting calmly at the Slytherin table, helping himself to fruit from the big bowl that stood in the centre of the table. He was happily munching on a ripe peach, ignoring the rivulets of juice that ran down his chin (I’m sure he’d be fascinated to know that after two minutes of this Harry couldn’t take it any more and disappeared to find some privacy) when the doors of the great hall opened and in walked Pansy, deep in conversation with Granger. Of course Draco had told her about Blaise’s revelations this morning and Pansy had worked it into her planned chat with Granger. The trick was to make Blaise sound suitably Hufflepuffian to appeal to Granger, while still retaining enough of his bad boy reputation to entice Weaslette. After she ended her relationship with Potter she had developed a taste for dangerous and unsuitable men, much to the despair of her over-protective brothers.

Potter on the other hand, Draco reflected, licking peach juice off his fingers, had withdrawn into himself. There had been a time when he seemed even to be avoiding his loyal sidekicks. He’d been subdued and quiet in lessons and had even stopped coming to meals. Draco was well aware that his obsession with Potter had been an unhealthy level for several years now (and in many ways his quest to get into Potter’s knickers was an improvement on his earlier stalkerish obsession) but it bothered him to see his rival so out of sorts. He had missed their banter and their fights.

Pansy gave him a little grin and a thumbs up as she said goodbye to Granger and headed towards her own domain. Draco smiled. Pansy really was an incredible woman. If she said things were going to plan then Blaise and the Weaslette were as good as together.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Pansy’s plan worked every bit as perfectly as Draco had hoped. Granger had a word with the littlest Weasley, who all but jumped Blaise on his way to a Care of Magical creatures. He had eventually arrived, half an hour late, with his tied crooked and his hair ruffled, and had announced that he and the Weaslette were now an item.

Draco had quickly headed off and snipe comments or even outright snubs by his housemates by congratulating Blaise profusely. Pansy also made a big show of being delighted and when Nott dared to point out that yesterday they’d been grouching about how much better the world would be without any Weasleys, Pansy had said that that was purely because their hair clashed with the Griffindor house colours and after all, Ginny had purer blood than Nott (Nott’s grandmother had been a muggle, a fact the family were very ashamed off).

Everything was working perfectly and Draco could hardly believe his luck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5: In which Harry is confused, Ron is sympathetic and Draco is heroic! Warnings for piercings, death eaters and pure blood manners.

Harry had been studiously avoiding Malfoy, ever since the ‘incident’ with the scalpels in Defence Club. Or at least he had been trying to. But it seemed to Harry that the more he tried to avoid him, the more he seemed to be around – passing him in the corridors, sitting near him in class, even just the smell of him lingering in the Quidditch changing rooms. It drove Harry mad. And what was worse was that he didn’t want to avoid Draco. He found himself seeking out the blonde head amongst the crowds at breakfast. He was starting to become obsessed with the blonde boy and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

He’d started dreaming about him regularly. Hermione had thought it was cute. But then he’d only given her a rough outline of the more mainstream dreams. After all some of them were fine. It embarrassed him to wake up in sticky sheets knowing Malfoy had caused it but then he was a teenage boy. That was normal. You didn’t have to like someone to find them attractive. It was the other dreams. The disjointed feral dreams that he dreaded. The ones he told no one about and scarcely admitted to himself. The ones that weren’t fantasies – nothing that coherent – but brutal flashes of flickering images of blood and sex and chains. Of him hurting Malfoy. Claiming him. And worse. He was starting to dread going to sleep in case he had one of them. He was uncomfortable enough with this new dark part of his nature without having it thrust in his face like this. He’d just been starting to get back to normal.

At first he’d totally dismissed Hermione’s suggestion of her setting him up with Malfoy. There was nothing he could imagine that would be worse. He wanted the boy’s blood that was all. He wasn’t attracted to him except in an abstract sort of way were he was a bisexual 18 year old and Malfoy was good looking. He certainly didn’t actually want any kind of couple-hood. Actually scrap that he didn’t want anything from Malfoy. Nothing at all. All he wanted was to never have to see him again. But then this constant nagging from his libido was beginning to wear him down. And his new darker self seemed to have decided that Malfoy’s little performance at DC was as good as permission for Harry to do whatever he wanted to him (not that he did want to do anything Harry told himself) and he found his instincts taking over more and more. He only had to hear Malfoy’s voice for his fangs to extend, all his senses to become even more heightened. Ron had had to physically drag him away when Malfoy cut himself in potions.

They’d been practising distilling – a complex and delicate practise that extracted vital and precious oils from ingredients, multiplying their strength many times over, making them much more valuable, but also much more volatile. The process took place in a complex series of glass vials and tubes that had to be set out over two tables pushed together to accommodate the length of pipes needed. Malfoy was working over the other side of the room with Zabini (Blaise, Harry corrected himself – if Ginny liked him then it was the least Harry could do to be polite to him; he’d made her life hard enough as it was), Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Harry had been doing his best to ignore Malfoy and concentrate on his own disastrous extract of violet root, and not on the way Malfoy’s arse was perfectly outlined in his smart dress trousers when he lent over to check one of the vials. He wasn’t really clear what happened next but Ron told him afterwards that Daphne Greengrass had pinched Malfoy’s arse, making him jump. He’d upset the table and had unbalanced himself, landing in the shards of broken alembic. All Harry knew was that the air suddenly full of the smell of blood, Malfoy’s blood and that his brain was shutting down. He needed that blood. Needed like an alcoholic in cold turkey who’s just seen an abandoned bottle of gin. He actually lunged towards the Slytherins, but Hermione caught him. She wasn’t very strong, and certainly not as strong as Harry, but she held him for long enough for Ron to understand the situation. Harry had the strength born of bloodlust on his side, but Ron was a good foot taller than him and much more muscled and easily held him in place.

Between them Ron and Hermione managed to get Harry out of the classroom and dragged him, not quite kicking and screaming but nearly, to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey assessed the situation without it having to be explained and wordlessly produced a bag of blood. She was about to start filling a syringe, but Harry didn’t give her a chance. He seized the blood bag out of her hands and sank his teeth into it. It was cold and the taste was contaminated with preservative magic and the bag was the wrong texture and he felt oddly exposed, feeding without a warm body pressed against him but at least he was feeding. Just the act of biting calmed him a little, appeasing his hunger far more than potions or injections ever did.

Hermione, thinking he looked small and alone, went to him, shaking off Ron’s restraining arm and sat behind him leaning her cheek against his back and wrapping her arms around his waist. Seeing how Harry visibly relaxed at the contact Ron came to sit on Harry other side, shifting so that their shoulders bumped.

Harry felt the safest and happiest he had done for months. He was feeding and his friends were here to protect him and watch over him while he was vulnerable. He wasn’t alone and hungry for the first time in months. ‘If Ron and Hermione hugging you while you feed on cold dead blood from a plastic bag feels like this,’ his dark side chided him, ‘just imagine how good feeding while you made love would feel.’

It was this thought from his traitorous vampiric side which finally convinced him that maybe Hermione’s idea wasn’t so ridiculous. Which was why he’d moved his daily private flying practice forward an hour. It gave him an excuse to bump into Malfoy accidentally on purpose twice a week as the Slytherin teams practise was just before his. However the genius aspect of the plan was that he wasn’t trapped with Malfoy – he would just seem him for a couple of minutes, maybe only a few seconds, chat to him, maybe find out a bit about him and then he’d have flying and a hot shower afterwards to distract him. It was the perfect plan.

He was congratulating himself on his brilliance as he pushed open the door to the Quidditch changing rooms. He had smelt from a distance that Malfoy and a few of is team mates were still in the changing rooms and he had prepared himself for the mental onslaught that his presence always caused. But nothing could have prepared for the sight in front of him. Malfoy was leaning against one of the lockers with his teammates surrounding him in a rough semi circle. They were all egging him on, Doors, their new beater, chanting “Up up up…”, but Harry had no idea what to until Malfoy lifted up the front of him shirt revealing… Harry gulped. Revealing a glint of silver against the pale toned skin. A little silver nipple ring now adorned Malfoy’s perfect physique.

Doors wolf whistled and the others laughed. Malfoy smiled quietly at a rather offensive comment from the team captain about Pansy using it to keep him on a leash, and fastidiously tucked his shirt back into the waistband of his trousers.

“Didn’t that hurt?” One of them asked as they gathered up their things to leave.

“Of course,” Draco said. “That’s rather the point.” He slung his leather satchel across one shoulder. As he was leaving one of his team mates, a chaser whose name Harry could never remember, bumped into him, obviously on purpose, his elbow expertly hitting the jewellery.

Malfoy made a whimpering sound, so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard it and ignored the pain. And Harry knew it must be hurting because he could smell the blood, a dull trickle seeping from the half healed wound.

There was nothing Harry could do now except run. Make sure Malfoy didn’t get to close to him because he’d just discovered he had a piercing fetish and he knew that if he had the chance he’d jump Malfoy and that would not be a good thing.

Swinging his bag back over his should he ran as fast as he could back to common room, fighting every step of the way not to turn back and sick his fangs into Malfoy’s neck and well… He didn’t stop running till he reached the common room and felt the fat lady swing reassuringly into place behind him. He slid down the door panting, trying to calm his racing mind.

“You all right mate?” came Ron’s voice from an armchair by the fire. Harry looked around himself. It being a Hogsmead weekend the common room was deserted except for Ron and himself. “No,” he replied in a small voice.

“What’s up mate?” Ron asked in a concerned voice, coming over to join Harry on the floor in front of the portrait hole. “Anything I can do to help?”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Unless you have a way to make Malfoy sleep with me then probably not.”

Ron looked slightly disgusted. “Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you – what’s going on with you and Malfoy?”

Harry stared at the floor trying not to meet his friend eyes. “Nothing,” he said bitterly. “Not a thing.”

Ron stared at him for a minute then grinned. “Okay,” he said. “Let me rephrase the question. What would you like to be going on with you and Malfoy?”

Harry buried his head in his arms. “You really don’t want to know,” came the muffled reply.

“I think that sort of tells me all I need to know,” said Ron. He slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Want to talk about it?”

Harry shook his head and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Harry said, “I want him Ron. I want so badly I don’t think I can explain it to you. I’m not sure a human could ever understand. I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t love him or anything,” he added quickly when Ron pulled a face. “I don’t even like him. It’s just lust. Pure unadulterated lust. I don’t want to want him. I mean I don’t know what I want at the moment. I don’t want Ginny back. I’d like things to go back to the way they were but I don’t want her while I’m like this. I mean I didn’t think I’d ever want anyone again. I don’t like hurting people. Not really. And I was okay with that. I mean it wasn’t good but I could live with being celibate if the other option was hurting people. But then along came Malfoy and tipped that on its head ‘cos he likes being hurt. He really likes it. Can you even begin to imagine what that’s done for my 17 year old brain? And his blood, my God his blood, it smells like… like ambrosia. Like the food of the gods.” Harry hung his head miserably. “I think I’m going mad,” he said quietly. “Malfoy’s driving me mad. He only has to walk into a room and all I can think about is him. It’s ridiculous. Maybe this is all Voldemort’s doing. Maybe he’s actually come up with a decent plan for once!”

Ron snorted. “Obviously Harry. A man (and I use the term lightly) who has thus far been incapable of doing anything to you beyond jumping up and down shouting “kill him, kill him” has suddenly become a seer and a tactical genius and arranged for you to become a vampire knowing full well that this would turn you into a devout poufter with a thing for pointy blonde death-eaters-in-training.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Ron hugged him with a nonchalance that only a Quidditch toned 6’5” 18 year old with extensive DADA training could have when hugging a blood crazed vampire. “You know mate,” he said in an amused tone, “there is one good thing about this and that’s that compared to your problems, my inability to ask out Hermione seems like nothing. It’s really helping me put things in perspective.”

“Glad to be of service,” Harry muttered sarcastically.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco had been on tenterhooks all day. Blaise had informed him that he might be getting some juicy information on Potter’s sex life today and Draco had been waiting with baited breath all day. He was now tucked up in bad, too excited to really relax. If Blaise had been telling the truth then in a matter of minutes that gorgeous body would be one step closer. Unless of course the news Blaise bought was that Potter was irredeemably straight with a chronic fear of S&M but Draco refused to entertain the possibility. The universe simply could not be that cruel, even if it was run by a drug addled three year old.

Finally after what seemed like an age he heard Blaise’s footsteps ascending the steps to his dorm-room. He held his breath while Blaise tiptoed in and quietly shut the door. It was way past curfew and most people were asleep.

And then Draco released his breath in a long rush because a familiar figure had pulled apart Draco’s bed curtains and his mattress dipped as Blaise came to sit beside him.

“Hey Blaise,” Draco said, trying to hide his excitement. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

“Oh yes,” Blaise said with certainty. “I found out why Ginny and Potter broke up. And I think you’ll like it.”

Draco ricked up his ears. “Really?”

“See until this summer they really were as blissfully, Griffindorishly happy and vanilla as everyone thought they were. Then apparently something happened to Potter, Ginny wont say what though, just says that the story’s not hers to tell, but they became ‘sexually incompatible’ as Ginny put it. Apparently, from what I gather, Potter hurt her. Like in a kinky way. She wouldn’t elaborate, but she has this obsessive fear of being bitten, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the two were connected. But apparently they’re still friends ‘cos Ginny keeps defending him, saying that he couldn’t help himself – sadism’s in his nature now.” Blaise grinned at the look of delight on Draco’s face. “I thought that might be what you were after,” he said. “Night Draco.”

“Oh, night Blaise,” Draco replied distractedly. His mind was in turmoil. Potter was sadistic. Potter had bitten Weasley hard enough to really frighten her. And much as Draco hated to ever compliment a Weasley, Ginny was a brave woman. It would take a lot to scare her. ‘Must have been hard enough to draw blood,’ Draco mused. ‘And I bet that wasn’t all he did.’ This really was too good to be true. ‘Please let him be gay, please let him be gay,’ Draco chanted in his head. Surely not even the god who’d allowed him to be banned form hot showers and made him fancy Potter would tease him like this.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was loath to admit it but he was really beginning to admire the Weaslette. He hadn’t seen Blaise so much as look at another woman for more than a week. This kind of devotion was practically unheard of in Slytherin, where love was regarded as a not terribly desirable optional extra, which raised the price hugely – a bit like having heated seats in your Renault Megan, even though it cost £1,000 extra. It just didn’t make financial sense.

But Blaise had obviously succumbed to her charms because his behaviour was being almost Griffindorish. Certainly he was being enough of a gentleman for Granger to approve of him, because she’d actually offered to read through his History of Magic homework for him.

Draco was seriously impressed. He was beginning to think that maybe he should try to get her on his side. After all she obviously had no problem with dating Slytherins and surely she wanted Potter to move on. Actually the more he thought about it, the more it made sense to approach her directly and ask for her help. In fact he didn’t know why he hadn’t done it in the first place. Today was a Hogsmeade weekend and he’d heard Weasley say something to her pet Slytherin about needing some supplies from the town. If he ran he’d probably catch her on her way to the town, which would give him the perfect chance the talk to her privately.

Gathering his things into his bag he threw it onto his bed and threw a winter cloak around his shoulders. He jogged up through the dungeons and out to the school gate. He could just make out Weasley’s ginger head amongst the crowds of students. Draco speeded up manoeuvring himself through the groups of stragglers.

“Weasley,” he called as he got closer to her. “Hey, Ginny, wait up.”

The smallest Weasley slowed and turned to look at him. “Malfoy?” she asked, sounding confused. “What do you want?”

Draco stopped, panting as he reached her. “Hey Ginny. I needed to talk to you about something. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all,” Ginny replied, obviously nonplussed but putting on her best pureblood manners. “Nothing bad I hope?”

“No it's just… DUCK!” As he shouted Draco threw him down on top of the petite girl, shielding her with his body, feeling the cutting curse whistle above his head.

He was on his feet in a second; desperately looking around for the black robed figure he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. He helped Ginny to her feet, still desperately trying to search out their attacker. He was just beginning to think that maybe they’d fled, when he heard a shouted curse. Draco panicked. His father had taught him that curse the previous summer. It was a cutting charm, a nasty one, made worse by being a homing charm. You couldn’t run from it, or duck it. In fact the only way to stop it was… Draco didn’t think of his father’s reaction. He didn’t think about how much it would hurt or about the fact that the cloaked figure could easily fire of another curse. All he thought about as he stepped into the path of the curse was that it was flying toward Ginny at neck height and he couldn’t not do anything – he couldn’t let her, an innocent, die.

The curse sliced through Draco’s chest, cutting into his shoulder. He felt his wand arm dangle useless as the connecting muscle was severed. He only vaguely heard Ginny’s shouted of “Malfoy!” or shout of crucio. He hardly felt the pain of it. He barely heard Ginny scream. He didn’t hear the 12 students yelling stunning charms. He had already passed into blissful oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6: In which Draco is intrigued, Voldemort is angry and Ginny reveals all! Warnings for plotting, memory loss and pink fuzzy brains.

Draco came too slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew he must have been injured because his brain was in that pink fuzzy state induced by painkilling charms which he so hated. After a while he became vaguely aware that someone was sitting at his bedside. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden light.

“Hello?” he whispered, surprised at the croaky sound of his own voice. He must have been asleep for ages because his voice felt unused.

“Hello?” the figure sitting beside his bed asked. “Are you awake?”

“I think so,” Draco replied. He wasn’t used to painkilling magic, he thought, that must be why he was so dopey.

“Madam Pomfrey,” the figure yelled. Draco thought it was probably female. Oh of course, he realised. He must be in the hospital wing. “What happened?” he asked in is rasping voice.

“You were hit by a particularly nasty cutting curse Mr Malfoy,” came the terse reply from the Mediwitch. “Very messy. Now sit still while I examine you and then Miss Weasley can explain what happened. I don’t know how much you’ll remember, being Crucioed when you were already so weak… well it could have been very damaging, especially to your memory.”

Draco forced himself to lie still while she poked and prodded him and asked inane questions. He occupied himself with restoring his eyesight and reciting potions recipes to test his memory. By the time she had finished he could see perfectly well and he was reassured that he’d suffered no major brain damage.

“Try and rest Mr Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey said as she bustled away. “You’ve had quite an ordeal.”

When she’d gone Ginny Weasley came back to sit at his bedside. He stared at her for a few minutes, but eventually he asked. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer Wealsey but why are you sitting by my bedside? You barely know me and I don’t think we’ve ever said a civil word to one another!”

Ginny gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t you remember, Malfoy?” she asked. “You saved my life!”

Draco stared at her stunned. “Why? How?” he croaked.

“We were walking into Hogsmeade,” Ginny told him. “You had something you wanted to talk to me about so we were walking together, and then all of a sudden a couple of Death Eaters arrived. You pushed me down out of the way of the first curse, and then stepped in front of the second one. It was a cutting charm; hit you in the chest and shoulder. You passed out I think but I don’t know because one of them Crucioed me. They Crucioed you too, even though you were defenceless but you just sort of half smiled. Anyway, I don’t remember much until I came too a few minutes later, by which time they were in a pretty bad way, having been attacked by every student on their way into Hogsmeade. Some of them called the teachers and carried us back here. The Death Eaters have been packed off to the Aurors for questioning of course, but McGonagall thinks it wasn’t a planned attack – just idiots trying to prove how brave they are by attacking children. You’ve been asleep of three days because of the healings and painkilling drugs you’re on” she finished.

Draco sat in silence absorbing this knowledge as waiting patiently as the memories began to slowly filter through. And then; “Oh Merlin,” he cried. “What were the Death Eaters called?”

“McKinley was the ring leader,” Ginny told him. “The other one was younger. I think his name was Dean. Something like that.”

Draco though had stopped listening after McKinley. “I’m dead,” he whispered. “I’m dead.”

“What do you mean,” Ginny asked, concern ringing in her voice.

“I mean that McKinley is high enough in the inner circle for the dark lord to know he’s gone missing. I mean that the Dark Lord and my father both know that I saved the life of a Weasley. There’ll be a price on my head already!”

Ginny looked horrified. “Surely your father…” she began, and then stopped at the look on Draco face.

“He was the first person ever to Crucio me,” he told her. “My own father was able to point his wand at me and feel little enough love to be able to cast that curse properly. He will save his own skin, even if that means abandoning me to the tender mercies of the Dark Lord.”

Ginny just sat, apparently stunned into silence. Then very gently she put her hand on his arm and said in a small voice, “I can’t imagine what you must to going through. For your family to turn on you… Well, I just can’t imagine it. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m eternally grateful to you. You saved my life.” And oddly Draco found that that meant everything. Gratitude wasn’t worth much but it was all he had at the moment and he was going to treasure it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Vacuus Fines Finium ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco spent most of the next few days sleeping. He was finding the unfamiliar painkillers where disagreeing with his system, making him sleepy and sluggish and he soon insisted he be taken off them.

His recovery speeded up considerably after that and Madam Pomfrey began to allow him visitors. Only two Slytherins came to see him – Pansy (who he soon shooed away out of concern for her safety) who insisted that he was more important than her safety, and Blaise whose family were neutrals in the war, hiding in France.

The Gryffindors on the other hand seemed to have almost adopted him. He received a huge box of chocolates and a heartfelt letter from the Weasley’s senior thanking him profusely for saving Ginny and telling him that clan Weasley would always look out for him. He’d had an awkward and blessedly brief visit from Ron. Granger came regularly to tell him what was happening in his classes and bring him notes (colour coded of course). Even Potter had been in and had chatted quite naturally until Madam Pomfrey came to change his bandages and then Potter had gone quite white and excused himself. Ginny visited everyday. Draco constantly protested that this was unnecessary, that she owned him nothing, but without much conviction. He actually quite enjoyed her company and was beginning to look forward to her visits. They found they had a lot in common, from a love of chess (Draco found it appealed to his analytical and scheming personality, while Ginny had learnt to play so she could beat her brother at something) to an extensive knowledge of the best Wizarding shoe designers (Ginny was nearly green with envy when Draco revealed he owned a pair of handmade Arrabetta’s). Draco was torn as to whether it was good that he’d gained a friend or terrible that his only friend was a Weasley. Thinking about it gave him a headache.

After a week of this comfortable routine Draco decided he was well enough to broach the subject he’d been trying to bring up when they were attacked.

“Ginny,” he began as they sat companionably in chairs by one of the big infirmary windows, “you know that thing I wanted to talk about that day?”

Ginny looked startled. “Oh yeah,” she said. “I’d quite forgotten. What was it?”

Draco blushed. “I er wanted your help with something,” she said without meeting her eyes. “Umm that is I might kinda fancy your ex boyfriend a bit and I erm was er hoping you might help me.”

Ginny stared at him for a minute then grinned bemusedly. “You want my help seducing Harry?” she asked. “Since when do Malfoys fancy the Gryffindor golden boy?”

“Since they saw that gorgeous body of his,” Draco replied with feeling.

Ginny’s grin got even wider. Draco thought she looked more and more like her twin brothers. “Of course I’ll…” she began and then her face darkened. “Oh but…” she trailed of and sat in thought for a minute and then said, “Harry says you’re a masochistic Draco. That you enjoy pain. Is that true?”

‘Oh Merlin he noticed,’ Draco thought. ‘Maybe he is gay. Sadistic and gay!’ But out loud he just said “Yes it is,” in as calm voice as he could manage.

“Look,” Ginny said candidly, “I shouldn’t be telling you this. It’s not mine to tell and Harry asked me to keep it too myself but… well if I can’t trust the man whose took a curse for me then who can I trust?” She smiled at him. Draco waited with baited breath to see what she was going to say. Maybe this would be the secret as to why Potter had suddenly become sadistic. “Look,” she continued, “something happened to Harry this summer. Something major. He… he was bitten. By a vampire.” She smiled ruefully. “Stupid isn’t it? He lives in the most secure house in the country, he’s survived so many attempts on his life and then he goes for a walk one night and get attacked! Typical Harry,” she added, smiling fondly.

Draco couldn’t breath. His vision darkened. He’d thought a sadistic Potter was too good to be true. But a Vampire… just the thought of those fangs where causing reactions he didn’t ever want to be having in front of the Weaslette, even if she was sort of his friend now. The thought of being bitten… of being Potter’s lunch as well as his sub…

“I take it you don’t mind,” Ginny asked dryly, giggling as Draco hastily pulled the folds of his robes across his lap. “I was so hoping you wouldn’t. Hermione had already told me she though you fancied Harry and I thought maybe if you’re a masochist… I couldn’t do it. It broke my heart to leave him. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but he terrified me. He bit me once you know. By accident. It wasn’t long after he was turned and he still didn’t have much control over is urges and well… It terrified me it really did. Plus he can’t really be with a woman any more. Because of the periods. He says the smell of the dead blood makes him sick. He can’t bear it.”

Draco sat letting Ginny’s vice wash over him. He was going through all his encounters with Potter, adding his vampirism into the equation, finally understanding Potter’s erratic behaviour. And a picture was beginning to build in his mind. A picture of someone totally obsessed. Potter wanted him. He was desperate for him. And now Draco held all the trump cards.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7: In which Harry is bemused, Ginny is helpful and Draco gets his own way. Warnings for bossy nurses and an almost total lack of sex (yet).

Draco had spent half an hour doing his hair before he sent the owl up to Potter. Actually Ginny had spent half an hour doing is hair before she sent an owl up too Potter as Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t allow his mirror or his owl in the Hospital wing as the owl was deemed unhygienic and the mirror kept insulting all the half bloods, muggleborns and anyone it suspected of being a bit gay.

Now he was sitting twiddling his thumbs in anticipation and tying not to think about what he’d do if Potter turned him down. Ginny had reassured him again and again that he wouldn’t but Draco was a natural worrier. If there was anything that could possibly go wrong Draco would sit up at night worrying about it for days beforehand.

At last he was broken from his reverie by a quiet cough. He looked up to see Potter standing at his side. He hadn’t heard him come in but then Potter had always been good at going unnoticed when he wanted.

“Ah Potter,” Draco said grandly, “do take a seat.” He gestured to the comfy armchair opposite and Potter sat, looking nervous. “Tea?” Draco asked and without waiting for Harry to answer he clicked his fingers, summoning a house elf carrying a tray of biscuits and a large pot of tea. Draco poured out two cups, leaving Harry to add his own milk and sugar. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Draco nibbling delicately on a sugar biscuit, until Harry finally couldn’t take it any longer.

“What do you want Malfoy,” he burst out. “You said something in your letter about a deal?”

Draco primly set his cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “Indeed I did Potter,” he began. “You will probably have realised by now that my saving of Ginny Weasley was not the most sensible thing I’ve ever done, from the point of view of my safety at least. McKinley was quite high up in Voldemort’s circle. There will already be a price on my head and no one will intervene on my behalf, even if it were possible to plead with the dark lord. And I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t believed in his cause for a long time now. So I need protection. You are the best source of protection I know of.  
“I wouldn’t insult either of us by asking this of you without offering adequate payment,” Draco said, holding up a hand to still Potter’s protests. “I believe I can pay you in kind.”

“You can offer me protection?” Harry asked, bemused.

“In a way,” Draco replied calmly. “I can give you strength. I can give what you crave most.”

Potter’s breath was short, and he was staring at Draco with an apprehensive, hopeful expression, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Do you mean…” he began and then stopped, embarrassed.  
Draco gave him a predatory smile. “I know what you are Harry. And I know what you want from me. And I’m prepared to give it too you. All I want in exchange in whatever protection you can offer me.”

Potter’s eyed had glazed over slightly and he seemed to barely be listening to Draco. He gaze was fixed on the point just above his collar bone where Draco pulse was just visible, a faint blue line against alabaster skin. He started to move towards Draco, his gaze never wavering, but Draco pushed him away.

“Not until we agree terms,” he said firmly. “And anyway not here. Madam Pomfrey could walk in at any moment. Do you really want her to find you fucking me against a wall?”

That snapped Potter out of it. His head jerked up and he stared at Draco with a combination of shock and lust.

“Yes Potter,” Draco smirked. “That’s my offer. I’m offering you me, to do with as you want, so long as you don’t kill me. My body and my blood are yours. What are you offering in exchange?”

Potter looked thoughtful. Draco was pretty sure it was an act – he didn’t have to look at the visible bulge in the front of Harry trousers to see that he was so turned on he was practically incapable of rational thought. He did it anyway, licking his lips as he unconsciously recalled the first time (of many) he’d wanked to Potter.

“You’d have to stay near me,” Potter said. “I have a house and I think I’ll be able to persuade the secret keeper to let you in. I can’t really protect you if you’re not near me so… Ummm, I think you’ll have to move in with me for me to keep my end of the bargain. It’s a big house; you’ll have plenty of space. And Kreacher will be delighted to have you – he might even do some housework. You’ll be safe there – the place is more secure than the department of mysteries. Umm I think that’s the best I can do.” He looked shamefaced.

Draco pretended to consider his offer, not that he had any choice. And actually it sounded like a good offer. He could probably cope with living with Potter so long as he didn’t have to see him too often and wherever Potter lived would be the safest place for him. Plus he’d get to accidentally walk in on him in the shower.

Draco held out his hand. “Done,” he said and they shook.

As soon as the agreement was made Potter’s eyes slid back to Draco’s throat. Draco was trying hard not to show how turned on he was by the intense scrutiny but when Potter opened his mouth and Draco saw those fangs he couldn’t help meeping quietly. That was enough. Potter pounced, one of his hands tangling in Draco’s hair tugging his head to one side roughly, exposing his neck. Draco whimpered and pressed himself against the body above him. Then Potter’s mouth was on his throat, his fangs pressing against Draco’s skin just hard enough to tease and his breath ghosting across Draco’s neck, raising goose bumps and Draco had never been so turned on in is life. Until Potter bit down and Draco was sure he’d be disappointed because all his blood had flowed south. But apparently not all because through the haze of pain and arousal Draco was aware of Potter’s desperate suckling and he could feel a cool trickle where some blood had escape the corned of Potters mouth.

A door slammed in the direction of Pomfrey’s office and they quickly pulled apart. Potter collapsed back into his chair. He had a definite post coital rumple about him. The bulge in his trousers was even more obvious now and a little trickle of blood ran down from one corner of his mouth. It was all Draco could do not to jump him.

“Get out Potter,” Draco choked out. Harry looked shocked and hurt so Draco added. “I really don’t want Pomfrey to catch us but I’m not sure I can control myself around you. I’m going to jump you in a minute and I’d rather not be expelled for giving the nurse a heart attack.” Potter visibly relaxed but didn’t move. “Go Potter!” Draco exclaimed. “I should be out the day after tomorrow – I’ll owl you to arrange to meet up somewhere.”

Potter nodded and began to rise when Draco swooped forward catching Potter’s chin and swiping his tongue across the line of blood. “Goodbye Potter,” he whispered before he released him.

 

Draco was so elated with his success that it was two days before he realised he’d forgotten to ask Potter a few very important questions.

The day after his life changing conversation with Potter he’d tried his hardest to catch up on with some of his missed work (he’d spent the night alternately fantasising and cursing the fact that Madam Pomfrey was in her office and after years of caring for sick children was woken by the slightest little noise. He was having trouble keeping quiet just thinking about those delicious fangs. The next day (his last in the hospital wing) he spent doing a series of rigorous physical and magical examinations to test whether he was fit to return to lessons (and by extension face the massed ranks on now hostile Slytherins). So it wasn’t until he was packing up his possessions in lieu of returning to the dormitories that he suddenly realised there was much he didn’t know and hadn’t finalised. There was so much he needed to sort out, and he wouldn’t get much done if he let Potter distract him. Oh well, there was nothing for it – he have to meet with him, and hope he could keep his hands to himself until they’d sorted out the business of the day.

Searching out a quill and ink and a scrap of parchment from amongst the heaps of his possessions, waiting for the house elves to return them to his dormitory, he scrawled a quick note in his sloping copperplate and gave it too his owl who had come to the window to bring him his daily prophet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8: In which Harry gets religion, Ron gets nosy and Draco gets camp. Warnings for bloodplay, nosy friends and really excelent handjobs.

Potter was ten minutes late to their assignation. Draco was starting to think maybe he’d thought better of the deal and was planning to pull out when a breathless Potter pushed open the door to the room of Requirement. Draco’s sulky pout turned into a predatory smirk at the sight of him. He’d obviously run all the way from Gryffindor tower and he looked out-of-breath and rumpled – but in a post coital, I’ve just had a fantastic orgasm, sort of way.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled, apparently unable to meet Draco’s eyes. And was that a hint of a blush crawling up his neck? “Hermione kept trying to get me to write myself a homework timetable – it’s a wonder I got away at all!”

“That’s quite alright Harry. Do take a seat,” said Draco, the perfect pureblood host. “As you obviously received and read my note, I’ll cut straight to the chase. We have a few matters we need to discuss and then I think we ought to formalise our agreement.”

Potter merely nodded mutely, so Draco continued, “I need to know two things before I sign any contracts. One is about the Order of the Phoenix and the light side generally and one is about you. I’ll start with the easy one. Can you guarantee I’m at no risk from your own side and will I be expected to fight?”

“I can certainly guarantee you’re at no physical risk – that is I won’t let them attack you, and after they’ve had time to get to get used to the idea of you switching sides they won’t want to. They might be less happy about you living with me – but that’s really none of their business. As for your fighting, you will be expected to take some part, even if it’s just brewing up healing potions for St Mungo’s, but no on will force you even to do that. If you want to fight you will be welcomed with open arms, by me at least, and eventually by the rest of the light.”

“You’d trust me to fight along side you? You wouldn’t be afraid that I’d stab you in the back?” Draco found that suddenly the answer mattered very much – all he had in the world was his looks and his reputation – suddenly other people opinions mattered a great deal.

“Not today no,” was Harry’s answer. “Right now you don’t know me and I don’t know you – all we know about each other is six years of playground bickering. But I do trust your self preservation instinct. And I know that once you’ve seen a little of our side, you’ll understand that we will win. Then I’ll trust you. And If I made you swear you wouldn’t betray us I’d trust you to keep your word. You are after all a gentleman.”

Draco was impressed – and though he’d never admit it, very touched. “A Malfoy never breaks his word,” he whispered. Then he pulled himself together. You can indulge your emotions when you’re alone, he told himself. Right now you have a job to do. “Very well.” He cleared his throat. “Onto the second question. What are you like in bed?”

Harry just stared at him. “I mean,” Draco clarified, “that I realised I offered myself to you without knowing anything about you sexually except those things which directly relate to your vampirism. Before I commit myself to anything I’d like to know what I’ve got myself into.”

Harry blushed and said “I don’t know what to tell you – maybe if you ask me some specific questions…”

“Okay. Umm… are you attracted to men?”

“What kind of question is that?” asked Harry.

“A relevant one. Answer it please.”

“Okay umm… I’m not sure. I mean I’ve never been attracted to a guy before I was turned. I mean I wouldn’t necessarily say I was 100% straight – I just hadn’t ever really fancied a bloke. I’d had what Dean calls a man crush – like a mixture of jealousy and admiration. But never a proper crush. But recently – I suppose I’d just been noticing everyone more – like I was more aware of other people. I had noticed that I had been noticing how blokes looked more – but still – nothing like a crush till I met you in the shower that time. I’d noticed how good looking you were – are,” more adorable blushing. “But no I didn’t fancy any bloke till the second time I met you in the shower.”

Draco looked thoughtful. “So you do actually fancy me then – this is lust as well as convenience?” Harry nodded.

“Okay question two,” Draco continued. “How much do you know about how guys have sex and how do you feel about it?”

“Umm…” Harry was blushing in earnest now and seemed to suddenly be fascinated by his shoes. “I know that basics.”

“Which are?”

“I know blokes take it in the arse. I know that it hurts more than it does for girls. I know a bit about the preparation and stuff. Not much, but a bit.”

Draco nodded. That was enough to be going on with. He could train him as they went along. “And how do you feel about it? How do you feel about having anal sex with a guy?”

“I dunno. The idea of being underneath…”

“Bottoming,” Draco interjected.

“Right. The idea of bottoming, that sort of scares me. Not in a totally freaked out running for the hills kind of a way. More a ‘that must hurt like hell’ kind of way. But topping,” he looked to Draco for confirmation, “topping, that’s just sex. Not really any different from normal except that you have to be more careful.”

Draco was pleased. “Just one last question” he told Harry. “What are your kinks – other than bloodplay? That one’s kind of obvious.”

By this time Harry looked so embarrassed Draco was expecting him to turn tale and run so he was impressed when Harry answered his question. “Well as you say there’s the bloodplay and then all the stuff associated with that – like biting, even if it’s just a little bit and doesn’t break the skin. I think maybe that in the last few weeks I might be developing a voyeuristic streak. And I think being a vampire automatically makes you a sadist. I can honestly say that watching you play with that scalpel was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.  
“I don’t know how much my kinks have changed since I was turned but I used to be fairly vanilla except for a thing about restraints. Being tied up really turned me on. The idea of it still does but I don’t know whether I will actually still enjoy it – I mean my vampiric side might object to submission. I suspect that being turned might just have made me kinky full stop – I’ve had a couple of quite masochistic wet dreams recently”

“And what about the non fetishy stuff – like your generally sexual tastes – do you especially like rimming, do you like to be on top or underneath? That kind of stuff?”

More blushing. “I don’t really mind. Though the one thing that always bugged me a bit about sex with Ginny was that I had to be so careful, so gentle. Not that I wanted to hurt her or anything but I would be nice to be able to just let go, not have to worry all the time that I’m going to hurt someone, or whether I’ve made them gag, stuff like that. It would be nice to have a lover who, every once in a while, would let me just do whatever I wanted – whatever felt good – and not worry about themselves too much.”

The little voice in Draco’s head which ignored all the Malfoy rules and protocol was dancing a little and singing the strangely happy sex maniac song (it went ‘I’m going to have amazing sex, I’m going to have amazing sex, I wont be able to walk for days, It’ll be amazing”). Draco allowed himself a suitably restrained “Oh my god I’m about to have the best sex of my life” smile. It made Harry go weak at the knees. “You can be as rough as you like with me Harry. I’ll probably enjoy it more.” Harry blushed, if possible, harder.

“May I ask you something in return?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Draco replied.

“Why are you interested in me? You didn’t have to offer me your body; I’d have been happy – sexually frustrated but happy – with just your blood.”

Draco grinned at him. “You mean aside from that fact that I’m well known to be the kinkiest person in the school and I have a ridiculously huge vampire fetish? Your body definitely sweetened the deal. I know you’re totally unaware of this but you are seriously good looking – as well as being well endowed. And it seems like we are pretty compatible, sex wise.”

Harry gave Draco an embarrassed little smile then said, “You realise we’ve talked for a whole 7 minutes without a row. This is probably a record for us. I suppose it bodes well for us living together at least. Anyway we should probably get on with signing with contract thing.”

“Okay how about we write out what we will bring to the deal – like wedding vows kind of – and then we’ll check each others and make sure we haven’t left anything out. Then we can swear to one another. If we want to swear an unbreakable vow we’ll need some time to prepare. It might be best if we discuss things and try the arrangement out for a bit before we make any permanent settlement. And anyway, we’ll need a trustworthy witness.”

They agreed and the room provided them with Quill and ink and parchment and they pulled little side tables up to the sofa they had been sitting on and set about writing out their vows, as Draco called them. When they compared them they had two minor disagreements. Harry insisted Draco add something about Harry not being allowed to rape Draco into his (and blushed like mad when Draco said he hoped that wouldn’t mean Harry wasn’t forceful) and Draco insisted Harry add something about defeating Voldemort being more important than Draco.

Eventually they agreed and formally read them to each other.

“I Draco Abraxus Lucius Quirkus Malfoy, being sound in my mind, give to Harry James Potter all rights over my body and my blood. I shall from this day forth be his to command so long as it doesn’t involve his raping me or entail a serious and reasonable risk to my life, until the danger is passed or one or both us is dead.”

“I Harry James Potter, being sound of mind, do swear to do all within my power to protect Draco, especially from Voldemort and his followers, except when this seriously endangers my mission to defeat him. I also swear that when I have done this or upon my death Draco will be free from all obligations owed to me.”

Then they both said “I swear” and shook hands.

And then Draco did something which made Harry think that maybe some benevolent deity had seen his terrible childhood and was trying to make it up to him. He tipped his head to one side invitingly and said “Why not toast our new agreement?”

Harry’s eyes widened with surprise, his fangs lengthened with desire and then he pounced. There was no hesitation this time, no gentle teasing. He sunk his fangs straight into the pale, smooth skin and began drinking the rich dark blood. Draco decided he had probably died and gone to some kind of masochist’s heaven. Even when Harry had drunk a tiny drop from him before it hadn’t been like this. He felt as if every cell in his body was vibrating with pleasure and his veins had been filled with fire – like the cruciatus curse but so pleasurable it was almost painful. And then Harry’s fumbling fingers succeeded in opening Draco’s flies and when a large, broom calloused hand closed around Draco’s hard flesh he gave up all semblance of control and made all the noises he’d been trying so hard to keep in for so many weeks. He moaned deep in his throat and gabbled his desire to his now lover…

“Oh God so good… please… Ah! Please hurt me… more more… harder, bite harder… oh fuckohfuckohfuckohfuck oh Merlin fuck me harry please oh Merlin hurt me I’m yours all yours the contract says so… you want to hurt me… you want to fuck me I know you do please… just do it… oh god more” until the pleasure was too great and he had to be content with moans and gasps and little whimpers of pleasure and pain as he abandoned himself to the incredible sensations coursing through his body.

Then Harry scraped his nails down the sensitive skin of Draco’s cock and he came harder than he had ever come before calling Harry’s name and still begging him. When he was spent Harry pulled away and lapped at the wound the clean it of blood. Then he prodded the wound and whispered “Medicore”.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ron was waiting for Harry when he returned to the dormitory. Not only still awake, but not even gone to bed yet! He had his arm crossed and a scowl on his face. He stood up when Harry climbed awkwardly through the portrait hole, doing a passably good impression of the love of his life. Harry sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Ron. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that Ron had a right to know what was happening. But not now. Hopefully not for a few weeks. Definitely not before Harry had spent some quality time alone in his bed with the curtains drawn and a strong silencing charm.

“Please?” he said pleadingly to Ron. “Please not now!”

“Now Harry,” Ron said firmly and pushed him over to a sofa in front of the dying fire. “I want to know what’s happening now.”

“I’m not sure you do,” said Harry, nervously licking one last drop of half dried blood from the corner of his mouth. The gesture was not lost on Ron. He went pale. “Oh my god, Harry you didn’t?”

Harry nodded, then realised what Ron was saying and quickly shook his head. “No Ron, not like… well yes. But it was consenting. And he’s fine,” he added quickly.

Ron just stared. Harry sighed deeply and pulled his copy of the vows out of his bag and handed them to Ron. “Here,” he said simply. ”This will explain.”

Ron read slowly through the document his expression of horror growing, if that was possible. “Harry you don’t really trust him do you?” Ron asked incredulously, laying the paper’s aside.

“Yes Ron, I do. He may be many unpleasant things, but he is also a man of his word. He believes utterly in all those pureblood rules of conduct you told me about. And even if you won’t accept that he’s honourable, surely you’ll accept that he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin. He won’t betray me because I’m the only thing which stands between him and Voldemort.”

Ron looked doubtful. “Look,” Harry said reasonably, “we haven’t even slept together yet. At least let me get one good shag out of this before you start torturing him and spoiling his looks.”

Ron expression was torn between amusement and total disgust.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was exactly 13 hours, 12 minutes and seven seconds after this that Ron and Draco had a little chat of their own. Ron reasoned he had only promised not to hurt Malfoy. Couldn’t be anything wrong with a little chat.

Draco didn’t know about Ron’s promise so he was understandably a little worried when he turned the corner and found Ron waiting for him, arms crossed and fists bunched. He was even more worried when the said Ron dragged him into an abandoned classroom and spelled the door locked.

He tried not to show it. “I hope you haven’t brought me in here the obvious reason,” he drawled. “Because I’m sorry to tell you that as of last night I’m spoken for and really, you’re not my type.”

“Haha, very funny,” Ron replied sarcastically. “But I wanted to talk to you actually. About last night. Among other things.”

“Really? What about last night?” Draco asked innocently, regarding Ron with a ‘who me?’ expression. He might have been interested to know the effect this look had on Harry. Well, I’m sure he found out fairly quickly.

“Well for starters what happened?”

“I assume you mean what happened between Harry and myself? We had an informative discussion about gay sex, the mechanics of,” Draco explained, “the dynamics of human vampire relationships and Harry’s fetishes. Then we drew up a contract of sorts which I’m sure you’ve seen and then Harry drank some of my blood and gave me a really excellent hand job.” Draco gave Ron a bright smile. “Do want me you give you a more detailed description?”

Ron looked slightly green. “No thank you,” he said curtly. “I want you to tell me why you’re doing this?”

“What talking to you in a dingy classroom?” Draco asked brightly. “Well you dragged me in here and…” The was something that sounded distinctly like a growl from Ron. “Oh alright. You mean what do I gain from this agreement? Aside from the fact that I get to be the personal plaything of possibly the most attractive man in the country and have loads of probably really excellent and quite bloody sex? Well there is the minor matter of being protected from a lot of evil men who want to murder me. And of course not having to join the forces of a man who believes meeting my more insane relatives in abandoned graveyards to plan the murder of innocent people he doesn’t even know constitutes a social life…” God I’m such a Queen he though to himself.

“God you’re such a Queen!” Ron said.

Draco nodded gloomily. “I always get camper when I’m under extreme stress,” he explained. “I haven’t been to a Death Eater meeting for months because father says I embarrass him. And because I told Uncle Severus that he looked like a greasy overgrown bat and he should get a haircut. If I meet him anywhere where Dumbledore won’t find him he tries to kill me. That rather spoiled my cousin Anathema’s wedding reception, let me tell you.”

Ron was staring at him, his head on one side, and a bemused expression on his face. “You don’t really take after your father do you?” he asked. Draco shook his head and sighed deeply.

Ron unlocked the door, satisfied that this man wasn’t nearly as threatening as he had suspected. “Just one more question before I go,” he said. “What would you have done if you’d found out about Harry without pissing of You Know Who and alienating your family?”

Draco looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. Probably a toss up between kidnapping him and imprisoning him in my private quarters and trying to convince father that I was pumping him for information. Of course if he turned out to be as good in bed as I suspect he will be, then I’d seriously consider defection. After all evil megalomaniacs are ten a penny, but sadistic vampires with bodies that good are rare indeed.” And with a sunny smile he left, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts.

One though actually, which was that while he didn’t trust a Malfoy to stay loyal to anything except himself, he trusted an eighteen year old boy to obey his libido without question.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9: In which Hermione is disaproving, Draco is frustrated and Harry is easily manipulated.

Draco spent the next two days formulating a plan in his head. He was developing a theory that Harry and the vampire were still essentially separate entities. Harry certainly hadn’t properly accepted his vampirism yet. So Harry was essentially schizophrenic. This didn’t worry Draco - when you had an aunt like Bellatrix almost anyone seemed normal in comparison. But Draco’s plan for the best sex ever hinged on Harry’s vampiric side.

He spent three hours going over his previous encounters with Harry trying to find out how to trigger the change. Blood obviously. And the thought of blood and the possibility of blood. But he didn’t know yet if anything else worked. He was sitting toying with his lunch when Granger walked past. Of course! Granger would know.

Without waiting for her to say anything he grabbed her by one arm and dragged her out of the great hall and into a disused classroom opposite.

She tugged her arm away and made to leave but Draco grabbed her again and said, “Don’t go, I need to talk to you about Potter!”

She turned slowly and crossed her arms. “What about Harry?” she asked suspiciously

Draco did a little double take. “You mean he hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what exactly?”

“You must know. You always know everything about Potter! About the whole me signing away all rights over my body to him!”

“You did what?!” Hermione screamed.

“Look I presume you know that I’ve switched sides and Harry’s offered me protection?” Draco asked.

Hermione nodded slowly.

“You didn’t think I’d just beg him did you?” Draco asked scornfully. “It was a fair exchange. I get protection. Harry gets… well me.” He held up a hand quickly. “I am fully aware of what he is, thank you Granger. I wouldn’t have offered myself to him if I wasn’t.”

Hermione just stared. “You offered yourself to Harry BECAUSE you knew he was a vampire? You are seriously fucked up!”

“Yeah I know. But I’m having more fun than you.” He grinned wickedly at her. “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Oh I know Harry’s your best friend and you’re totally vanilla, but all humans find vampires attractive. And for most people it’s the coolness, and taboo that they find enticing. Do you really want Harry to end up with someone like that? How is that any better than someone who just wants him for his scar? He can’t live on blood potions for ever you know. I am attracted to vampires. Not cool people or dangerous people – vampires. I know perfectly well that he’ll bite me during sex. I’m counting on it. I’m a big boy granger, I can look after myself. And if you thought about it for five minutes you’d see that I’m exactly what Harry needs. But this isn’t what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to ask if you’d noticed the difference between Harry and vampire!Harry?”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said. “Why?”

“Do you know what triggers that change? Apart from blood of course – I worked that one out myself!” He smiled dreamily at the memory.

Hermione looked totally horrified but her love of imparting facts won over. “Well any strong emotion I think. It happens sometimes when he’s angry. Like when Michael Corner cheated on Ginny. It took all Ron’s strength to stop him rushing off to find him and doing God knows what!”

Draco nodded his brain already whirring. “Thanks Granger,” he said distractedly. “You’ve been really helpful.”

He started to walk away when Hermione grabbed his arm. “Not so fast Malfoy, I want to know why you wanted to know. And it had better not be something stupid. I don’t like you and I certainly don’t trust you but I’m not going to stand by and let you be hurt.”

Draco sighed deeply and put a reassuring hand on Hermione’s arm. “Look Granger,” he said gently. “I know from all those notes you made for me that there’s very few things you can’t understand. But I suspect this is one of them. I like being hurt. A lot. You wouldn’t believe how high my pain threshold is. I also have a big thing about vampires. Harry is a vampire and as such he needs to hurt somebody. I know he doesn’t want to but he needs to. Like I said I can look after myself. I don’t intend to let Harry kill me, just… maim me a bit.

“So thank you, you’ve been very helpful. And quite understanding under the circumstances. But now it would probably be best for your sanity if you just tried to forget all about this conversation.”

And with that he swept out, doing a passably good impression of his favourite teacher.

 

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Draco eventually finished plotting and decided that his plan for absolutely perfect sex was complete. He scribbled a note and tied it to the leg of his handsome eagle owl.

The message the owl dropped into Harry’s lap that morning read:

“Dear Harry,  
If you meet me in the Room of Requirement at 9 tonight I’ll start earning my protection. Don’t bother to dress up – your clothes will only end up on the floor.  
Draco”

The last, unsubtle, comment was to upset either Weasley or Granger, should they choose to poke their noses into his and Potter’s decidedly private business.

 

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Draco jumped Harry as soon as he was through the door. He had spent the last two weeks planning this night, and if his schemes were to succeed he needed to keep Harry off balance – stop him thinking. So he grabbed Harry round the waist and kissed him, passionately. The room sealed the door shut just before Draco pushed Harry back against the wall where it had been a few seconds before. Harry submitted to his ministrations for a few seconds then with a low growl in the back of his throat (a purely vampiric noise that made Draco go week at the knees) he flipped them round, grabbing Draco’s wrists and sliding his thigh between Draco’s legs, pinning him to the wall. He paused for a second as though surveying his prize.

Draco dropped his head slightly and looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, a submissive gesture that never failed in wrapping the recipient around his little finger. He knew exactly how good he looked and he intended to use it to his advantage. He treated Harry to his best ‘big innocent eyes’ look and caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a second. Currently he was going for the nervous submissive virgin look. He knew if Harry thought about it for thirty seconds he’d realise he was being played like a drum and that Draco was definitely up to something but he was relying on Harry’s vampiric side being desperate enough that it wouldn’t let him think. His gamble paid off.

When Harry’s mouth crashed into Draco again, he could feel his desperation and desire and he knew he had him eating out of the palm of his hand. Harry would do anything he asked. Still, no harm in enjoying the moment. He relaxed into Harry, pressing himself against him, and grinding a little against the hard thigh. Harry’s kisses where getting more forceful and Draco knew if he didn’t enact his plan soon he was going to just give in to Harry’s ministrations and forget all about it. And fun as that would be, he wanted their first time together to be really memorable.

Never detaching his mouth from Harry’s, Draco pushed him back towards the bed. Then running his hands over Harry’s firm body he whispered in his ear “lie down”. Harry, his brain fogged with desire did as he was told immediately. Draco caught him guard and he had no time to react to Draco’s well practised swish and flick, or his shout of “incarcerus”. Soft silken ropes sprang from the corners of the mattress and bound Harry’s hands to the bed head. Soft maybe, but designed to be strong enough to hold a Vampire, Harry discovered when he tested them. Draco grinned his best predatory grin. Another whispered word removed Harry’s clothes and left him shivering at the sudden exposure. Draco conjured a comfortable chair for himself and took out the sharp knife he’d hidden in the bedside cabinet earlier on. Harry gulped when he saw it.

“As it’s your first time, and of course, our first time, I thought I ought to make it memorable,” Draco explained. “I was racking my brains and then I had the wonderful idea of combining your biggest turn-ons – bloodplay, voyeurism and restraints.” He held up the knife so that the blade caught the light. It was a simply but well made hunting knife, with a bone handle. “My father gave me this knife for my 11th birthday. It’s spelled to never blunt or rust. I think he’d be pretty appalled if he knew what I was using it for. Actually I think he suspects. The house-elves kept trying to hide it whenever I went home for the holidays and they only obey his orders.” Draco grinned. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me chat.” He touched the knife to his skin, very gently, stroking the inside of his wrist with the point of the blade. He put on a singsong announcer voice. “We do hope you enjoy the show – really excellent oral ex is available in the lobby during the interval.” Harry would have commented on the poor quality of Draco’s sense of humour, but at that moment Draco flicked his wrist and opened a tiny wound inside his wrist. Two sets of eyes, one grey one green, watched fascinated as a small drop of blood welled up and trailed slowly down the pale skin of Draco’s arm.

He trailed the blade slowly over his body, leaving a series of tiny cuts but mostly using it to remove his clothing, cutting away buttons and slipping out of them one by one. He smirked to himself at the way Harry whimpered and jerked up against his restraints every time the knife slit the pale skin. When he was naked and dripping blood from a dozen tiny wounds (and they were both painfully hard) he put the knife down and reached into the drawer again. This time his hand emerged holding a small tub. “Lube,” he told Harry conversationally. “Of course there are spells for when you’re in a hurry, but I much prefer the old fashioned way.” He scooped a small amount of the sweet smelling viscous stuff onto the fingers and slid forward in his chair, spreading his legs and revealing himself to harry. Slowly and unhurriedly he began to spread the lube over his entrance until eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed first one slick finger then another inside of himself and began to fuck himself slowly. His other hand he slid up is body until it found the glint of sliver on his chest and began to tug and rub at it, eliciting soft whimpers and pleasure and pain.

Draco watched as Harry shut his eyes, apparently trying to get some self control. He failed, because the creature that opened its eyes wasn’t entirely Harry anymore. It certainly wasn’t human. Draco didn’t know how he knew (in fact he still doesn’t know) but something, the expression maybe, or a strange light in his eyes, told him that Harry’s remaining scraps of humanity had been abandoned and that the creature before him was pure vampire. Draco wondered if he’d maybe gone to far, but then Vampire!Harry bared his fangs and Draco knew he’d done the right thing. His whole body was trembling with the need to have Harry bite him again. Smiling broadly he whispered “liberatio” and the ropes sprang away from Harry’s wrists.

Harry moved so fast Draco barley saw him move but within seconds he found himself pinned to the bed, held in place by 11 stone of hungry, sex crazed vampire. Harry was snarling under his breath now and already Draco could feel his hard cock pressing against his entrance and he decided he had defiantly done the right thing. But as I have previously mentioned, Draco enjoyed living dangerously, so he struggled. He did his best to escape from the walking wet dream above him. And then Harry did something that made Draco brain shut down entirely and threw all his senses into overdrive. He wrapped his hand around Draco’s throat, with one knuckle pressed against his windpipe just above his collar bone and he pressed.

If Draco had been thinking straight he would have wondered how Harry knew exactly how much pressure to apply, so that he got the perfect balance between crushing Draco’s voice box and cutting of all oxygen. But if any of you, my esteemed readers, has ever had the pleasure of being suffocated during sex, then you will know that it is impossible to think. You mind fights itself – every instinct tells you to get away as soon as possible but your brain releases wave after wave of wonderful endorphins. And if you’re a submissive then you’ll be in heaven. Because this is the most submissive position you can ever be in – forget chains and leather and ‘assuming the position’. All that pales in comparison to when you know that your lover literally holds your life in his hands.

Draco writhed beneath Potter, fighting to stay put and to conserve his oxygen – to make this wonderful submission last a little longer. But all good things come to an end and at last Draco began to struggle in earnest. For a few moments he thought that Harry really was going to kill him and he fought with all his strength. It appeared though that Harry was just enjoying his new found power and he quickly released Draco.

Draco lay back panting. Harry appeared to be returning to himself and he was alternating looking concerned and a bit ashamed and staring at Draco’s wrist, where a small trickle of blood was seeping from one of the wounds. Draco must have hit it on something when he was struggling but he hadn’t felt it. Harry appeared hypnotised and Draco was sorely tempted to give in to him and just let Harry drink from him. But no, Draco had a plan! A plan for really excellent sex and it involved keeping Harry wanting until that last possible moment.

So Draco raised the wound to his lips and lapped up the blood, rolling the taste around his tongue. The sadist in him (who was feeling slightly neglected – but if Draco’s theories where correct might get to enjoy himself another time when Harry was more comfortable with him) sat up and paid attention. It might be his own blood but it was still blood and he whimpered at the taste.

Harry moaned loudly. “God Draco… do you have any idea…? You know that’s probably more arousing than watching you fuck yourself?”

Draco grinned at him unrepentantly. Harry stared at him and then blinked slowly, as though he was returning to consciousness after long sleep. His expression grew dark.

“But seriously Draco, what the hell do you think you’re playing at? I could have killed you!”

Draco’s pupils dilated slightly with desire. “I know,”

Harry pulled away. “Draco what the fuck… and I promised I wouldn’t hurt you!”

Draco pulled himself into a sitting position. “That was your idea, not mine. I trust you not to kill me, nearly. But that 1% uncertainty is amazingly sexy. I’m a masochist Harry. There’s a reason I volunteered to be a vampire’s plaything – I want to have sex with a vampire. Harry Potter is a not entirely unwelcome extra. Actually quite a pleasant extra. But it’s the vampire in you that leaves me hard and wanting all the time.  
“Until we started this… this… this whatever it is, I hadn’t masturbated for nearly 3 years. But these last few days… it’s a wonder I’ve left my room. I want you Harry. And mostly because you’re a vampire. I know what I’m doing.  
“What if I were to tell you that I’ve spent more than a week planning this? That this is considerably less extreme than some of my fantasies? That I’ve been throttling myself with an ‘adstringo’ charm and my school tie during classes in an effort to distract myself from you.”

Harry stared at him, torn between horror and desire. He went very still for a moment, staring down at the quilt beneath him and then he whispered, “I’m sorry Draco, I… I can’t…”

He fled the room without finishing his explanation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10: In which Harry is confused and Ginny is helpful.

Harry’s mind was in turmoil. He needed advice but there was no one to ask. No one who’d understand. Hermione’d told him that Draco had told her but she’d looked disgusted at him and kept dropping hints about the possibility of Harry killing Malfoy. Ron was doing his absolute best to be understanding but trying to discuss this with him was probably going a step too far.

He was just beginning to despair, when Ginny sat down next to him. “Draco says you ran out on him yesterday,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Want to talk about it?” They were sitting in a tucked away corner of the clock tower courtyard, secluded from view. It was too cold and wet today for anyone to venture out unless they had too.

“Yes,” Harry said miserably. “But no offense Ginny, I’m not sure you’re the right person. I don’t want to frighten you any more than I already have.”

Ginny snorted. “Harry I’ve discussed his sex life with Draco. Frankly his side of this is a lot more disturbing than yours. You’re doing this because you’re a vampire and because you’re a single teenage boy who’s not currently getting any.” She grinned at him. “Draco’s doing it for… well to be honest I don’t entirely understand his reasons but apparently he really likes being hurt. Really likes it. Did he tell you about the school tie thing?”

Harry nodded mutely, insanely relieved to have someone who, even if they didn’t understand, seemed totally accepting.

“I couldn’t look him in the face for days after I caught him doing that in an empty classroom during lunch.” She blushed prettily and Harry was amazed to discover that while he still thought her beautiful, her presence was soothing rather than depressing and the blush made him think how pretty she looked but not mourn his loss of her. He had at one time thought he would never be able to talk comfortably with her again. “It was kind of hot too though. Not the suffocation bit, just the very good looking guy getting off bit.” She grinned. “So what went wrong then? Draco was so excited and now he’s really worried that he’s done something wrong and that he’d misjudged you. What happened? I want all the gory details, mind.”

He smiled weakly at her. “It was… well actually it was amazing. Draco had me wrapped round his little finger. He does this innocent look…”

“The ‘who me?’ or the ‘frightened virgin’ one?” Ginny asked with an amused expression that suggested that Draco had tried his innocent act on her. Clearly she hadn’t bought it.

“Frightened virgin. And, my God Gin. He was just so gorgeous, and I’ve been enjoying myself properly for the first time in months, I haven’t stopped to think about his motivations, or what he might want from me. I just let him take control. Next thing I know he’s tied me to the bed and he’s got this knife and… yeah you can probably guess what.” Harry blushed. “I’m not sure it’s possible to explain to a human how much of a turn on watching someone cut themselves is – when they enjoy it of course. It’s just… wow. And then he…” Harry blushed even more. “hefingerfuckedhimself! My instincts just took over. The second he released me I jumped him. He tried to get away, Gin. That’s what’s really killing me. He tried to get away and I just wrapped my hands round his throat and… I could have killed him. I think the only reason I didn’t was because my vampire side kept telling me he wasn’t as much fun dead! And then when I stopped, he gave me this lecture on how he thought it was hot that I’d nearly killed him and started telling me about how he’s been pleasuring himself and thinking of me all week. I had to get out of there while I still had some control. I don’t want to hurt him!”

“Really? Could have fooled me!” Ginny snorted cynically. “And poor Draco! Did you stop to think about him? He’s been so excited about finally sleeping with you. He wanted it to be perfect! And it sounds like it was going so well and then you had to spoil it!

“Harry think for a minute. Do you really think Draco was trying to get away? He’s been highly trained in combat and dark magic. If he wanted you off him, he could have escaped in a minute. He was trying to escape because he hoped your vampire side would react exactly the way it did. I don’t pretend to understand him, but this is his biggest fantasy. He’s been dreaming of having someone like you as his lover for years. He’s not stupid Harry. He knows the risks far better than you do. After all, we weren’t exactly kinky were we? Why don’t you try talking to Draco – finding out what he wants? Maybe then you can find a compromise that suits you both, rather than you ending it!”

Harry hung his head, ashamed that he hadn’t thought of this. “You’re right Ginny, as usual,” he said, contritely. “I was too panicked to really think about it. Thank you.”

Don’t thank me until after the mind blowing sex,” Ginny said, winking at him and, to his amazement, Harry found himself winking back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11: In which Draco is altuistic and Harry is confused.

Draco’s owl delivered him a hastily scrawled note at breakfast the next morning. 

“Dear Draco” it read. “I’m sorry about the other day, you just took me by surprise. I think before we take things further we should meet and discuss things properly. Just give me a couple of days to sort my head out. How does Friday, 8.30, RoR sound? Let me know if you’re busy, otherwise see you there.

Harry”

Draco briefly considered not going but his own safety convinced him. And frankly this was still too good an opportunity to turn down, even if Potter was more vanilla than he’d expected.

 

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When Draco pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement on Friday evening, he found Harry already waiting for him. Looking round he noticed the room was different form the last time he’d been here, in fact it looked a lot like the room he and Pansy used, but larger, with less bookshelves and decorated in Gryffindor colours.

Potter gave him a weak smile and gestured to the seat next to him which Draco took, seating himself elegantly. He waited patiently for Harry to speak, unwilling to make the first move as he was, he felt, the injured party.

“Um…” Potter said, blushing. “I’m really sorry Draco. I didn’t, well I didn’t mean to run on you but… well honestly, I was terrified. Of what I might do to you. Of the fact that you might let me. And that I was having these thoughts – that I wanted to hurt you. I mean that I was getting of on it, not just my vampire instincts. Did you feel like that when you first discovered that you liked pain?”

“Of course,” Draco said soothingly. “Everyone does at some point. I had about a month of ‘Oh Merlin, I’m a Malfoy! I shouldn’t want to submit to anyone! I shouldn’t want anyone to hurt me, especially not a boy!' The fact that while I was having this identity crisis and trying to be normal, I had the worst sex of my life, it soon convinced me though. But I never had a problem with being sadistic. Suppose that was father’s influence,” he half-smirked. “If I’d have known you were nervous I would’ve been a lot gentler with you – eased you gently into the world of Draco Malfoy’s fucked up sex life. I was catering for the vampire and forgetting that you’re part of the package.” He smiled disarmingly at him. “But I’m willing to have another go if you are,” he added.

“Definitely,” Harry nodded his head emphatically. “But Ginny suggested I talk to you, you know, like you did to me, and find out what you want out of this… arrangement. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Draco leered at Harry, “especially if it’s going to help me finally get into your pants!”

Harry smiled. “Okay, so what were you expecting sex with a vampire to be like?” he asked.

“Rough,” Draco said dreamily. “Bloody. I was expecting you to be very dominant and sadistic. Well, more hoping than expecting. I thought you probably wouldn’t like it, that’s why I tried to make your vampiric side take over. Granger said that the change is triggered by strong emotion. I was hoping lust counted. Looks like  
I was right. But I don’t know you that well. I can’t think like a Gryffindor. Especially not a fairly vanilla one. I’d assumed you wouldn’t approve. But it never occurred to me you’d be frightened. And I’d thought that once you felt how good it was you’d give in straight away. Guess I was thinking too much like a Slytherin.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said slowly, “just how kinky are you?”

Draco ran a long fingered hand through his white blond hair. “I’m not sure it’s one of those things you can quantify. I like pain. I’ve yet to find anything that reaches my pain threshold. There’s definitely a point where it hurts too much for me to get of on it, but I can still enjoy it. Like the shower thing. Trust me, third degree burns are not pleasurable but there’s still something quite enjoyable about them. I find it quite relaxing. And the first time I was ever crucioed I asked the one torturing me to do it again. It was a bit disappointing to tell the truth. I’d been told how agonising and unbearable it was, but it really wasn’t that bad.” He smiled at Potter. “I think that probably proves you can’t hurt me too much. I can take whatever you throw at me.”

Harry was just staring at him. “You enjoyed the Cruciatus curse?” he said faintly.

Draco snorted, “Not especially, like I said it was a bit disappointing. Anyway why are you sounding so shocked? You didn’t exactly try very hard to stop me when you walked in on me in the shower.”

“Well I did, if you recall, but then I decided ‘fuck it’, it’s your body. I hadn’t realised just how hot you had the water until you moved your shoulders and this wound appeared in your back, running all the way down your spine, like someone had unzipped you. At that point my brain shut down completely. I was hardly going to stop you once my vampiric side had decided you where my own personal porn film.” He smiled weakly, “I’ve fancied you ever since then. I don’t really know why, but my vampiric side became completely obsessed with you and given that we’re really the same person I suppose his feelings can affect my own.”

Draco grinned, “Well I am amazing. Anything else you want to know?”

“Well I don’t really know what your kinks are, apart from knife-play and being bitten.”

“Well, blood-play generally. Suffocation, as you probably noticed. Pretty much anything masochistic and a good chunk of submission. But I’m a switch - I play both sides, as it where. I’m a sadist as well. And I like being in control, hence the thing with the knife and the ropes. But really Harry I just want you to be rough with me. I genuinely want you to let your instincts take over. Ginny told me about your chat and she’s right, I know a lot more about this than you. Why don’t you let me guide you? I am capable of protecting myself if need be. But I’m counting on the fact that in much more fun alive than dead. So you won’t kill me. Your instincts won’t let you. And I think we’ve established that there isn’t much else you could do to me that I would either enjoy or be perfectly happy to put up with.”

Harry smiled crookedly. “I think I’d like more reassurance than that.”

“Okay, how about a safe-word?”

“Safe-word?”

“You know. A word you use in place of no, which means stop immediately, ‘cos obviously there’s going to be times when no means yes and half the time I’m begging because I enjoy the submission not because it hurts too much. I’ll have to think up a new one though. I had one when I was first experimenting with this stuff, but I’ve never used it. A fact which freaks a lot of people out. But like I said I’m not sure I have a pain threshold. So yeah I’ve forgotten it. Um…” he wrinkled his nose in thought, unconsciously mimicking his greatly missed best friend. “How about um… Salazar?” For some reason it was the first word that popped into his head (other than the one which the perverse and sex mad submissive part of his personality had suggested, which was ‘harder’. Somehow he didn’t think Harry would see the joke.)

“Yeah okay. But I’m still not comfortable with this. I don’t like hurting people. I don’t want to hurt you. Not more than I have too to feed I mean. And I don’t mean any offense. I’m not calling you a liar or anything but I still can’t quite believe you really like pain as much as you claim.”

Draco gave him his famous predatory smile™ and said, “So why don’t we settle both those things here and now. I want you to hurt me. As much as you can. Then we’ll have this discussion again. Are you willing to at least try?”

Harry thought about it silently for a few moments, but he knew Draco suggestion made sense, in a very Draco-ish way.

“What should I…”

“Could you bite me without your vampiric side taking over?” Draco asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied. “I think so.”

 

“Okay then my proposal is this. I’ll bite you, just prove to you how much it hurts. Most people don’t realize how sensitive your wrists are. Then you’ll bite me as hard as you can without using your fangs. And I can guarantee I’ll enjoy it and I’m pretty sure you will too. Then we’ll re-evaluate the situation based on our findings. How does that sound?”

“Ummm…”

“Excellent,” Draco said quickly, grabbing Harry’s arm. He brought his wrist up to his lips and without waiting for agreement, sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He increased the pressure slowly, not wanting to hurt the other boy, who’s pain threshold would probably be quite low, especially compared to Draco’s. His eye’s fluttered shut. Potter’s flesh felt divine in his mouth. The give of the soft flesh beneath his teeth felt wonderful and he could taste the pulse thudding against his tongue. It had been a long time since Draco last had a submissive lover. He reveled in the feeling of power until Potter cried out in pain and abruptly tried to yank his wrist out of Draco’s grasp. Draco sighed, disappointed at having to relinquish his prize so soon, but he pressed a small kiss to the bruised flesh and released Potter’s arm.(((NOTE!: Again with the different font? What happened Sapphy-chan? lol)))

Draco smiled at the surprised expression on Potter’s face. "Now we’ve established you’re a wimp, would you care to return the favour,” Draco asked, holding out his wrist.

Potter grabbed it straight away, and brought it to his lips. Draco guessed this was the vampire instinct, because once he had his lips pressed to the translucent skin he paused, looking at Draco with an uncertain look in his eyes.

“Do it Harry,” he said gently, as though calming a frightened animal. “You do it.”

The inflection was not lost on Potter. Draco saw his face flicker as he suppressed his vampire side and then he bit. Gently at first, as Draco had done, but quickly increasing the pressure when he saw that Draco was enjoying himself.

Draco whimpered with a mixture of pain and desire. Potter was barely trying, but already it hurt more than it did when the vampire bit him. The blunt teeth were bruising, whereas the vampire’s sharp fangs sliced through his flesh like water, so cleanly he barely felt it. He gasped at the horrible twanging caused by Potter catching a tendon. That, either the noise or the feeling, seemed to spur Potter on, and he abruptly bit down as hard as he could.

Draco gasped and then whimpered as the pain became hotter, feeling more like a burn, than the dull bruising it had been before. He felt as though a brand had been placed against his skin. As though Potter was branding him. That though made him whimper even louder, and that spurred Potter on to bite even harder and then suddenly there was the almost cold feeling of penetration as Potter gave into his instincts and let his fangs break the skin.

Draco let him drink for a few seconds then said, “Potter,” softly. The other boy looked up at him – and it was Potter, not the vampire – and said “Gosh.”

He let go of Draco and collapsed back into an armchair that the room conjured to catch him. “Gosh,” he said again.

He was very pale and shaking slightly and Draco felt suddenly sorry for forcing the issue like that. Better to have let the boy discover himself slowly. But Draco was not a naturally patient person. He wanted hot vampire sex, and he wanted it now!

Eventually he looked up and met Draco’s eyes. Draco felt slightly guilty when he saw the shock and hurt there, but only slightly.

“Alright,” Potter said resignedly, “apparently you were right. Now what?”

“Well I was going to continue where we left off,” Draco replied. “But it looks like you could do with some time to adjust. I think you should go and think this over. Talk to Ginny, she a lot less easily shocked than you seen to think. Or even, God forbid, Granger and Weasley. Talk to someone. Think about this. Think about what you want from me. I’ll be there when you work it out.”

Draco gave him a gentle smile and forced himself to leave, his inner Malfoy having fits at his altruistic behaviour. “The less I scare him now, the better the sex later,” he kept telling himself, though it didn’t seem to be having any effect on his jangling nerves. Or on his sadistic side, which though that Potter’s lost little boy look was VERY sexy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12: In which Draco is miserable and Pansy is in danger. Warnings for: magical bookmarks, mass-murdering psychopaths and evil mothers-in-law.

Draco was sitting in the common room, once more staring morosely into the flames. Not that he wasn’t paying attention to the room. He was no longer assured his safety and was keeping a close eye on those who he saw as a threat. Though his father had not actually disowned him (yet anyway) it was well known that there would be no repercussions from the Dark Lord or his followers against anyone who made it their mission to make Malfoy’s life a misery. So far he’d hardly noticed their stares or whispers and barely registered the rumours and the loss of status. He’d been too intent on his burgeoning relationship with Potter. But now they were all too obvious and he felt totally alone.

Suddenly his line of vision was broken. Someone had stepped between him and the fire. He took in the figure. Immaculate designer stilettos. Sheer black stockings. Ret tartan mini. Crisp white shirt. There was only one person in Hogwarts that well dressed (other than himself of course).

“Pansy,” he said politely, not wanting to appear overly friendly, searching her face for an explanation as too why she’d broken their agreement.

“May I,” she asked, gesturing at the seat beside him. Surprised, but knowing she must have a good reason for this dangerous behaviour, he nodded.

She sat and produced one of her beloved Veela romances. The vivid pink cover depicted a wizard who was all together to arrogant and muscle-bound for Draco taste, holding a simpering and impossibly beautiful woman in his arms. Against all logic he was not looking at the woman but staring out at the reader with a mournful expression. The title was ‘Forbidden Passions’. It amazed most muggle-borns to discover that Mills and Boon where actually a wizarding company. He’d never admit it, even under torture, but Draco had a few of their infamous (and now illegal) Vampire novellas – it turned out the author was a mass murdering psychopath, convinced he was vampire, who used his books as clues with which to tease the Aurors. This fact only increased their attraction for Draco. After only a couple of minutes of reading Pansy stood up abruptly saying, “Damn, I’ve got to redo that essay for Sprout. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

When she’d strode away, he saw her prized book mark lying on the seat next to him. Draco had made it when he was 6 as a birthday present for her. He’d spent hours drawing the little figures as neatly as he could and then enchanting them so that they waved at each other across the bookmark. It had taken him two weeks to learn that spell. It brought a lump to his throat to know that she still had it. He picked it up, staring at the waving stick figures. And then as he stared a little speech bubble flew out of the mouth of the blonde figure labeled ‘Pansy’ in scribbly handwriting.

“Meet me in the room of requirement in ten minutes” it said. He blinked and the writing was gone. Normally he would have umm'ed and ahhh'ed and weighed up every possible danger but he was so lonely and confused, so desperate to find someone to talk too, that had jumped up and headed straight to the RoR as fast as he decently could.

 

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He found Pansy already waiting for him. As soon as he pushed the door open she jumped up from where she was sitting and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as hard as she could. Draco laughed delightedly and kissed the upturned tip of her nose, something he’d always wanted to do. Pansy smiled indulgently at him and then drew herself up to her full height, took a deep breath and began to berate him.

“Draco Abraxus Lucius Quirkus Malfoy, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You nearly killed me. I nearly had a heart attack when they brought you in. You’re damned lucky you’re not dead! You spend three days practically in a coma and the moment you wake up and I’m finally allowed to see you, you send me away before I’ve had time to find out what happened and you fob me off with “I’ll tell you later” but you haven’t looked at me for a week, let alone talked to me. But you happily spend time with Weasley. Even Blaise has noticed the two of you are chummy. And now apparently you’ve switched sides. But I don’t hear this from you, oh no, I hear it from my father in an owl enquiring as to whether I might be able to kill you without Dumbledore noticing…”

As she drew breath Draco broke in quickly with a cry of, “I didn’t mean to Pans. I didn’t mean to change sides. I didn’t mean to abandon you!”

“And just how do you switch sides by accident?” Pansy enquired icily.

“I was going to talk to Ginny about Harry, err Potter I mean, because it had just occurred to me that she’d be a useful ally and I was talking to her as we walked into Hogsmede and then I heard McKinley (only I didn’t know it was him at the time) muttering this spell I remembered my father teaching me last summer. I figured it was aimed at Ginny, what with her parents being palls with Dumberldore and all, so I pushed her down, out of the way. I mean I didn’t really think about it. And that would have been fine. Easily explained away and maybe getting me back into the headmaster’s good books. But then I heard the 2nd spell. It a homing spell Pans – a cutting curse heading towards Ginny at neck height and in that moment I knew. I couldn’t let an innocent die. I mean I didn’t think, or rationalize it, I just knew I had to save Ginny. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital wing and there's already a price on my head. What could I do except switch sides? I couldn’t remain safe as a neutral. At least this way I’ve got a chance. Potter’s offered me protection and I accepted. I wanted to see you Pansy, so much, and I’ve needed your advice, but I couldn’t bear that I might put you in danger. I’m sorry.” He hung his head and looked so apologetic that she forgave him and drew him down onto the sofa.

“So then Draco, it seems you’ve been up to a lot while I’ve been out of the loop? Tell me everything!”

“Ummm…” Draco blushed. “You probably don’t want to know everything.”

“Oh Draco,” Pansy squealed. “You did it then? You finally got your claws into him?”

“Sort of. Actually it would be more accurate to say he got his fangs into me,” he replied, dryly.

“His fangs…”

“He’s a vampire Pans,” Draco stated, terrified for her reaction and desperate for her approval.

“Draco…” Pansy began.

“Honestly Pans, I know what I’m doing. My protection is given in exchange for my body. But so far he’s been a perfect gentleman. He absently rubbed at the half healed puncture wounds on his neck and Pansy’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Well nearly. But I promise I’ve enjoyed it. Come on Pans, you know he couldn’t hurt me too much if he wanted too!”

Pansy had helped Draco discover his masochistic side back in third year when she was using him to practise her blowjob giving skills on. She’d accidentally bitten him during one of their practise sessions. That month’s issue of TeenWitch magazine had had an article on giving head which Pansy had studied earnestly and it had included mention of possible reactions to accidental biting. Those mentioned did not include moaning loudly and coming hard enough to pass out. She’d wondered afterwards if she should write and tell them but thought better of it. It’d come as a surprise to Draco too.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“Of course I am Pans,” Draco reassured her.

“Alright. But I might have to have a brief word with our Mr Potter. Talk about his prospects, examine his intentions, that sort of thing.”

Draco smiled.

“But just so you know, you’re only getting off lightly because I might have to switch sides too.”

“What! Why?”

“Father’s written too me. He’s chosen my husband to be. I get no say in the matter. I marry him or he disowns me!”

“Oh Pans, is it awful?” Draco asked, worriedly.

“Its… oh Draco it Alastair Turnwise. He’s 60! Father just wants him because he’s Hecate Turnwise’s nephew. He’s got good contacts in the business world. Draco, I don’t care how rich he is, I’m too beautiful to marry a 60 year old!”

If the situation was not so serious, Draco would have smiled at her pride. She was right though. And it was frankly too dangerous. Pansy was a wild teenager, in the process of turning into a passionate woman. She would never be contented with a political marriage. Especially to someone more than 40 years her senior. And Draco could think of quite a few young men who wouldn’t be satisfied with the situation either. And that was suicide. Many pureblood families tolerated affairs, recognizing that marriages of convenience were rarely happy, provided they didn’t result in children. But not the Turnwises. They were conservative in the extreme, practically Victorian in their attitude towards women – an odd fact given that the family was ruled with iron fist by a terrifying matriarch. If Draco didn’t do anything he could already see Pansy’s life flashing before his eyes. It was miserable and painfully short. Hecate Turnwise was known to have killed three nieces, daughters and granddaughters in law already. And that was just the ones she actually killed. Draco closed his eyes in horror as the rumours of what happened to the others came flooding back to him.

“Do you want me to talk to Potter for you? I’m certain he’ll offer you protection – he’s genuinely as nice as people think he is. And if he doesn't immediately I’m sure I can… persuade him.”

Pansy grinned. “That would be wonderful darling. I may not have to, after all I’d rather not be disowned if I have the option, but it would be wonderful to have to option.  
“And now,” she said, smiling wickedly, “I want every personal, immensely private, embarrassing and gory detail of what’s going on with Potter.”

Draco smiled. He wasn’t used to having secrets and he was looking forward to finally unburdening himself to only person who he knew would understand. He and Pansy knew each other so well they could practically read each others minds and he knew she’d see matters the same way he did, a fact which he found incredibly reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quirkus is the Latin name for an Oak tree. I've always wanted to called someone Quirkus, and it seemed to rather suit Draco. Mills and Boon are a UK publishing company who only publish very cheesy, very formulaic, very old fashioned romance novels. As far as I know no Mills and Boon has ever contained information vital to the capture of a sadistic serial killer but it's a nice idea.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13: In which Pansy is scary, Hermione is gangsta and Harry finally gets a clue! Warnings for: Vampire blow-jobs, vivid pink robes and over-protective best friends.

Harry had eventually got bored of sitting in the common room brooding, and decided to go and brood on the roof instead. He could be alone with his thoughts and (though he’d never admit it) he felt instinctively that rooftops during storms were where dark, angsty vampires should go to ponder the mysteries of life. The fact that it was a warm sunny day in the middle of April sort of spoiled the image, but it was to the roof that he was heading none-the-less.

He was half was up the steps to the tallest tower, broom in hand, when he heard quick footsteps behind him and woman’s voice called out breathlessly, “Will you slow down Potter!”

Surprised, he turned to see Pansy Parkinson, resplendent in vivid pink robes chasing after him. He stopped and waited patiently for her to catch up with him which she eventually did. She leaned against a wall opposite him, panting.

“Honestly Potter, I thought you were supposed to have super-hearing? I’ve been calling you for ages!” 

Harry flushed, both from embarrassment that he’d been so caught up in being a dark, angsty vampire that he hadn’t heard her, and also because judging from the last comment, Draco had told her everything. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Pansy snorted derisively. “Evidently. Anyway, deafness aside, I need to talk to you.”

“I was on my way to the roof. You could come with me if you like,” Harry offered. “No one will overhear us up there.”

Pansy nodded and fell into step beside him.

They climbed the steep stone steps in silence, concentrating on not falling on the uneven surface. The step were build of the same silver-grey stone as the rest of the castle and were worn down in the middle where generations of feet had climbed them. Harry also noticed for the first time that the staircase twisted the wrong way. In muggle castles all staircases twisting to the left, so that the defenders had their sword arm free. He mentioned this to Pansy.

“The muggles weren’t expecting attack from above,” she pointed out. “At this level the defenders are more likely to be attacking uphill than down.”

Harry flushed again, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of this. There was something in Pansy’s tone that made him feel very small indeed. She sounded, he thought, like the woman who’d taught class three at his old primary school. Her name had been Miss Potts and Harry, along with most of the children, had both hated and feared her. She’d ruled her class with a rod of iron, but mostly she hadn’t needed to use punishment. She had a way of speaking that made you feel very small and stupid.

He continued up the stairs in sullen silence, following the clack of Pansy’s heels as they echoed down the stair. He could also smell her perfume, wafted down to him on a faint breeze that blew through the ill-fitting door at the top of the tower.

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the top of the tower. When Harry pushed open the battered oak door he found Pansy already leaning on the parapet on the far side of the tower, watching him, like a snake watching a mouse trying to tap dance. ‘You are interesting,’ the look said ‘but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you later’.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Harry asked, staying as far away as he could without being rude.

“Draco of course,” Pansy answered him. “I want to know what you intentions toward Draco are. I want to know about the contents of your bank account, your previous sexual experiences, your knowledge of pureblood wizarding practise, your knowledge of Draco himself, your thoughts on the war… everything.”

“Ummm,” Harry said. “Could you say all that again, slower, please?”

“Lets start with the simple one shall we Mr. Potter?” Pansy said, obviously warming to her role as interrogator. “How much money do you have in your bank account right now?”

“I’ve no idea,” Harry told her. “I don’t think I was ever told how much my parents left me. I think the Goblins said my Black vault contained something like 10,000 Galeons. Why?”

“Because I need to know that you’re able to look after Draco. That sounds reasonable. And you own the house where you’re taking Draco?”

Harry nodded.

“Good. What are your feelings towards Draco?”

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t know. I mean he’s gorgeous and he seems nice enough, but I don’t really know him yet.”

“But you’d like to get to know him better?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll have to do.”

“Can I go yet?”

“No. Do you really think your side can win the war?”

“Yes.”

“How certain are you?”

“75%. If it wasn’t for so much depending on me I’d be 100% certain.”

“Oh dear. Well there’s not much we can do about that now. Do you believe you can keep Draco safe?”

“Yes. I don’t think my hideout will be discovered, even if the light side fell. There is a house-elf there who will take care of him. So even if we loose and I die, he should still be safe.”

Pansy nodded approvingly. “Nice to know that Griffindors have some sense,” she said. Harry felt rather like she was praising a favourite dog. He sighed deeply. Why couldn’t Draco have had nice friends?

Pansy interrupted his thoughts by asking, “Tell me about sex with Miss Weasley.”

Harry spluttered. “What you can’t be serious? Why would I discuss that with you?!”

“Because I want to know,” Pansy said calmly, as though it was unthinkable that anyone would deny her. “And because I want to know a little about your sexual tastes, and your feelings for her, so that I can make a judgment on how well you’ll treat Draco. And to be honest, I’m just really nosy.”

She smiled broadly at him and Harry thought that for a moment he caught a glimpse of the woman Draco loved so much. But it was gone in a moment and the bossy school mistress was back, tapping her foot in irritation and staring at him as though she could glean the answers she sought straight from his mind.

Eventually, almost out of embarrassment, Harry told her what she wanted to know. “I’m sure Draco has told you about my sexual tastes,” he said, blushing to the roots of his hair. “To be honest he seems to know them better than me. But he insists I suit him, so you’ll have to take his word for it. I didn’t force him to become my lover. I worry that I’ll hurt him, you know, too much, but he keeps saying I wont so… As for my feelings for Ginny, I don’t want her back if that’s what you want to know. I’m not going to throw Draco away if she suddenly wants me back. And that isn’t going to happen by the way. We’ve both accepted the situation and she’s moved on. We’d be sexually totally incompatible now anyway.  
“Of course I wondered at one point whether it would work if I had someone like Draco to, well, exorcise my vampiric side, but I’m not so naive as to think that would work. I’m only just beginning to realise that the vampirism is a part of me and I can’t just switch it off at will. And anyway I’d never do that to Draco. I may not be in love with him, but he’s still my lover…”

Pansy smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you. I think that tells me all I need to know. I can trust you to take care of Draco.” She held out a hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter. This really is the first time we’ve ever talked.”

A little nonplussed, Harry shook the proffered, exquisitely manicured hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said politely. “At least now I know you’re not trying to get Draco for yourself.”

Pansy laughed prettily. “We are not sexually compatible at all,” she told him. “Beside I couldn’t cope with his oral fixation. I hate giving blow-jobs.”

It occurred to Harry that he had no idea what giving a blow job was like, and that he really ought to try it. And his vampire side helpfully supplied him wish the image of him biting down on Draco’s hot hard flesh and feeding on the pumping blood, mixed his lover’s come. He was amazed at how agreeable his cock found this image.

 

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Harry was feeling surprisingly cheerful after his talk with Pansy. It had helped his understand a few things (and given him a delicious idea to try out if he ever plucked up the courage to go back to Draco). He was even whistling as he went to sit in his usual spot in the centre of a large squashy armchair near the fire.

He looked up when Hermione and Ron approached him. They sat down, one on either side of him and crossed their arms. He attempted to make a dash for freedom but Ron had been ready for this and grabbed him, one arm across his chest pinning him in place.

“You haven't been talking to us recently,” said Hermione severely.

“We feel we have a right to know,” Ron added.

“So you’re going to tell us everything,” Hermione finished, giving Harry a fierce look.

He shook his head in confusion at being tag teamed by his best friends. “You sound like the twins,” he informed them, all the time desperately seeking an escape. Whatever Draco seemed to think, there were some things he just didn’t want to discuss with them.

Ron pushed him back down as he struggled to escape. He sat very still, not meeting their eyes and trying not to think about Draco pinning him like this. His thing about restraints had definitely not gone away, as he’d discovered when Draco decided to try to wake up his vampiric side. But he wasn’t thinking about that at all.

“Talk Harry,” Hermione all but growled at him. Harry hung his head. He knew he’d have to give in eventually but he intended to hold out for as long as possible.

“Harry, you’d better talk,” Ron warned him, playing his role of good cop perfectly.

Harry sighed. “You haven’t told me what you want to know,” he pointed out reasonably.

That stumped Hermione. She paused, looking confused. Then she rallied. “Are you and Malfoy a couple?” She asked.

“No,” Harry replied calmly.

Hermione looked nonplussed, her romantic ideals making it hard for her to imagine anyone engaging in sexual activates with someone they weren’t going out with, so Ron took over. “So what is going on between you?”

Harry was about to reply with something as un-shocking as possible, but then he stopped, thinking about Draco. He smirked broadly, his expression a twin of the famous Malfoy Smirk™. “He offered himself to me. I was hardly going to say no to a body like that, especially when he was willing to sign over all rights over his body and blood to me. We haven’t actually slept together yet, but his blood… it tastes incredible. But as to what’s going on between us… My dear human friends, I could explain until I was blue in the face and I don’t think you would ever understand. If I where you I’d put it out of my mind. Oh except that of course he’ll be living at Grimauld place with me this summer, so you’ll find it quite difficult to avoid him.” He treated them to a sunny smile.

Hermione stared at him. “Harry, did you just play the race card?” she asked, sounding amused.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Harry and Hermione both collapsed in fits of giggles.

“You think we won’t understand cos you is a vampire?” Hermione asked, in her best ghetto accent, which set Harry giggling again.

“You are the least Gangsta person in the world ‘Mione,” he told her.

“You is disrespectin’ me,” Hermione said gravely and promptly fell of the sofa laughing. 

Ron was by this time looking thoroughly confused. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he asked.

“Muggle joke,” Harry gasped, in between deep breaths as he tried hard to calm down. Eventually they were calm enough to talk properly, though whenever one of them caught the others eyes they’d start giggling again.

“I wish you’d stop worrying,” Harry told his friends. “I’m a big boy now, I can look after myself.”

“That’s what Draco said,” Hermione told him. “I didn’t believe him either.”

“But it’s true, ‘Mione,” Harry said, sounding surprised. “Draco is perfectly capable of protecting himself from me. Actually with his scheming mind he’s probably safer than I am…” he trailed off, suddenly realising that what he said was true. Draco had nothing to fear from Harry.

“Harry, you okay,” Hermione asked, sounding worried. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Harry!”

“Sorry,” he said dazedly. “I’ve just realised something really important. I’ve got to go talk to Draco. See you later.” And he sprinted off, without any explanation.

Hermione shook her head and smiled. She really could read Harry like a book sometimes.

 

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He found Draco in the library. He grabbed his hand unceremoniously and without waiting for permission or even pausing to explain he dragged Draco out into the corridor. He pulled him into a little inglenook set into the wall.

“Would you care to explain why you felt the need to assault me and drag me into this disgustingly grimy hole?” Draco asked with as much dignity as he could muster.

Harry didn’t answer. He paused for a moment, then lunged forward, grabbing the front of Draco robes, and crashing their mouths together. It was unlike any kiss they’d shared so far. Draco could taste Harry’s passion and his desperation and it seared through him like fire making him practically melt in his would-be lovers arms.

Eventually they pulled reluctantly apart and Harry lent back against the wall panting.

“Would you care to explain what that was about?” Draco asked his expression of haughty indifference spoiled by his ruffled hair and lips, pink from their recent use.

“I was talking to Hermione and Ron,” Harry said. “Like you said. Well except that they sort of attacked me and forced me to talk. And then I played the race card and ‘Mione was being gangsta and then she fell off her chair, and I was explaining about us and…” Harry paused gathering his thoughts. “The point is I suddenly realised that I might have lost you because I was being to bloody selfish and stupid to think how you might feel about this and I realised that I really didn’t want that. I didn’t want to loose you I mean.” The significance for that slight inflection was not lost on Draco. “And I wanted to come and tell you that I’ve thought, and I’ve discussed and I want you, and I really hope you still want me!”

That last sentence came out in a rush and it took Draco a minute to translate it in his head, but when he had he smiled sadly. “I’m sorry Harry. We had some fun, but while you were having your identity crisis my father’s forgiven me, Voldemort’s welcomed me back into the fold and I’ve found another astonishingly good looking sadistic gay vampire to satisfy my carnal needs.”

Harry looked so shocked and hurt that he soon relented. “Of course I still want you, you idiot. There aren’t any other good looking gay vampires around.”

“Good,” Harry said forcefully and kissed Draco again, because he could. “I’d hate to have to kill one of my own kind, simply because you’re fickle.”

When Draco looked surprised at this show of possessiveness Harry explained, “I suspected stunningly sexy masochists with no pain threshold and a vampire fetish are even rarer. I’d be an idiot to let go of the only one I’ve ever found.”

Draco smiled dazzlingly. Harry looked suitably dazzled.

They were about to resume kissing when they became aware of a slow clapping from behind them. They turned slowly too see Hermione standing behind them. She was smiling broadly at them.

“How long have you been there?” Harry yelped.

“Long enough,” she smirked. “Don’t worry, Vampire Yaoi is not my thing.”

Draco smirked, obviously getting the reference which eluded Harry. Draco lent over and whispered in his ear “She means she didn’t get off on watching us together.” Harry nodded, not understanding, but accepting nonetheless.

“I think this tells me far more than you managed to with words,” she said kindly. “You may not be ready to admit it yet but you too already really like each other! Harry I’m really glad that you’ve been able to move on from Ginny and start to accept who you are.” She smiled sweetly. “And if you hurt him Draco, in any way, I will make Voldemort look like a gentle little pussy-cat. You think you like pain my boy? I’ll make you think again!”

Then smiling, she pressed a gentle kiss to each of their foreheads and headed back into the library, leaving them both looking shell shocked.

“Do you like me?” Harry asked at the same time as Draco burst out “Would she really kill me?”

They looked at each other and smiled and Draco said “maybe” and Harry said “probably not”.

They stood for a few minutes, awkward, but happy to be with one another.

Eventually Harry said “When do you want too meet up again?”

Draco looked surprised and Harry grinned and said, “Like I said, now I’ve got you I’m not going to risk loosing you over something as stupid as my not wanting to admit I’m a sadist.”

“How about tonight,” Draco suggested.

“Tonight,” Harry agreed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15: In which Draco is adoring, Draco is amused and Harry is guilty. Warnings for tea cosies, accusing fish and lots of chocolate.

Harry was really nervous. In his haze of lust and happiness he’d some how agreed too having his supper with Draco in the Room of Requirement. As elves couldn’t enter the room he was to wait outside until Dobby arrived with a tray for him too take in. He had no idea what it would be – Draco had ordered. He’d insisted.

As he waited he paced up and down the corridor, trying to ignore the accusing stares of a group of elderly nuns in a painting on the wall opposite. They seemed to suspect what he was up too, and=2 0they didn’t approve in the least. As he passed them a third time one muttered, “Disgraceful, loitering about waiting for some hussy who’s no better than she ought to be. He should consider the state of his immortal soul.” She sounded ready to continue in the same vein all night but the others hushed her and she went and sulked in the corner of the painting next door – a particularly violent battle scene.

Eventually Draco arrived, looking ravishing as usual, followed by a familiar figure dressed in a stained ‘I love Australia’ t-shirt, with a rather sickly looking blue koala on it, a pair of what looked like elderly brownie culottes, held up with orange braces, and odd socks. Over this he wore a regulation Hogwarts tea towel, tied like an apron. He also had one of Hermione’s pitiful attempts at a woolly hat balanced jauntily between his ears (due to Hermione’s lack of expertise, her hats were all either enormous, or too small even for house elves).

“Hello Dobby,” Harry said cheerfully, smiling at the oddly dressed figure. “It’s you who takes the hats is it?”

“Yes Harry Potter,” Dobby squeaked reverentially. “They is upsetting the other elves sir, so Dobby is taking them away sir. The other elves is saying to burn them but Dobby does not do that sir because he knows they is made by a friend of Harry Potter.”

“What do you do with them all?” Harry asked, curious despite himself, and trying to ignore Draco’s expression, which was a mix of pure scorn and barely controlled hilarity. He was sure Dobby couldn’t have kept them all for himself, Hermione had made hundreds.

“Dobby is wearing some, Harry Potter. Some Dobby is unmaking. Then Dobby is putting the wool back into the young mistress’s bag of wool. The big ones Dobby has made into tea cosies for Professor Dumbledore.” His look of reverence made it obvious that Dumbledore sat bellow only Harry in Dobby’s estimation.

Dobby was gazing at Harry adoringly and his hands were shaking with excitement. Harry recognised the signs that he was about to launch into a speech about Harry’s supposed virtues, so he grabbed the tray from Dobby and thanked him, hurrying into the RoR and nearly slamming the door on Draco in his haste to escape.

He carefully placed the tray on a low coffee table and collapsed back onto a large sofa. Draco followed him in, shutting the door behind him. He waited a couple of seconds then burst out laughing.

“Do I really want to go anywhere near you Potter,” he asked, mock serious. “Who knows what kind of diseases you can get from sex with house elves!”

Harry spluttered his indignation, then realised that Draco was teasing him. He was still getting used to the idea that Malfoy had a sense of humour, and that he wasn’t always trying to insult Harry. So instead of being offended Harry just shook his head ruefully. “You should know Malfoy, he was your bloody house-elf. Was he not that exuberant with you?”

“Oddly no. Perhaps it’s just that I obviously have good taste, unlike some people.” He eyed Harry’s torn jeans and huge t-shirt with obvious disgust.

“I know, I know,” Harry sighed. “Ginny was always on at me to buy new clothes but I just never got round to it. There was always so much to do.”

“I’ll put that on my to do list,” Draco informed him seriously. Then he turned his back of Harry, bending over to arrange the tea table (and giving Harry a fantastic view of his arse at the same time).

Harry just couldn’t help himself. He had lusted over that firm arse for so long, he couldn’t restrain himself. He leant forward as far as he could, and bit Draco’s bum through the fabric of his trousers.

Draco squealed and leapt into the air in shock and nearly spilled hot sauce down himself. He spun round angrily, but all anger went out of him when he saw Harry. Harry, surprised by his own forwardness, and more than a little ashamed, was trying his best to look innocent. And while Draco’s innocent look made him look (to anyone except a lust crazed Harry) like a high class prostitute, or maybe a calculating court lady of the old school – a sort of male Anne Boleyn – Harry on the other hand looked every bit the nervous virgin he was (with men at least) and indescribably adorable. It was all Draco could do not to throw him over the tea table and let his Sadist ic side have it’s wicked way with him.

He satisfied himself with a soul-searing look, full of suggestion and promise, and went back to dishing out supper for Harry and himself. He’d ordered grilled mackerel for the first course, as in his opinion, no one with taste buds could dislike grilled mackerel. But that was merely a starter. The main entertainment for the evening was to be pudding.

He handed Harry a plate and a fork and sat next to him on the sofa. Harry stared blankly at his plate for a long time and then said in a small voice, “Draco my dinner’s looking at me!”

Draco sighed exasperatedly and reached over. As delicately as he could he removed the fish’s head, which he put on the side of his own plate. “Better?” he asked irritably.

Harry nodded and began to tuck into his dinner with gusto. “Sorry,” he said with his mouth full. “It was looking really accusing. It was making me feel guilty.

Draco rolled his eyes and chanted in his head “He was brought up by muggles, he was brought up by muggles….” But really he thought, even muggles must eat fish.

Harry’s fork clattered as he set him plate on the table, now empty apart form the fish bones. “That was lovely,” he announced. “What was it?”

“Makerel.” Draco replied. “You eat too fast.”

Harry grinned. “Ginny said that too. It comes of living with my cousin – you soon learn to eat what you’ve got a quickly as possible, before someone takes it away from you.

Draco nodded. “I supposed that disgusting overgrown bloated lump of lard I’ve seen you with at the station must be your cousin then?” Draco asked. It wasn’t really polite to talk about someone’s family in that way, but Harry obviously didn’t like his cousin, and anyway, Draco thought, when you were related to Aunt Bella, everyone’s family seems more or less okay in comparison. He said as much to Harry, who laughed.

“I have wondered how the same gene pool managed to produce you and Belatrix,” he admitted. “Just the idea of you being related to anyone who doesn’t own a hairbrush is weird.”

“I discovered last summer that we wear the same make of eyeliner though,” Draco commented.

“The mind boggles,” Harry said.

Draco finished his supper and set his plate next to Harry’s. Then he clapped his hands theatrically and the plates disappeared. He laughed delightedly. “I had no idea that would actually work,” he admitted. “I just concentrated really hard on how I needed the plates to go back to the kitchen. Now, would you like some desert?”

He lifted a silver cover to reveal a large elegant fondue set. Using his wand he lit the candles beneath the bowl, which was filled with chocolate. On the tray around the fondue bowl were range smaller bowls of fruit, nuts and biscuits, to dip in the chocolate.

Draco smiled at Harry. “Not very original, I’ll grant you but I adore chocolate, especially melted. It just seems to taste nicer melted. And there’s something childishly fun about fondue.” He grinned at Harry. “I’m really very childish.”

“True,” Harry smirked at him, and ducked when Draco responded by throwing a strawberry at him. “You’re not doing much to persuade me other wise,” Harry noted in between ducking the barrage of fruit.

Draco flung one final slice of apple at him and then settled back into his seat, still laughing.

He passed a metal skewer to Harry who stared at it blankly. Draco sighed dramatically and ro lled his eyes. “Watch” he said. He threaded two strawberries, a large red grape and a slice of apple onto his skewer and dipped it into the bowl of chocolate. He held it out to Harry. “Try some.”

Harry leant forward and gently slid a chocolate covered strawberry off the skewer, extending his fangs to help him guide the slippery fruit. He munched it thoughtfully. “Delicious,” he said. “Chocolate really does taste better melted.”

“Delicious indeed,” thought Draco, eyeing his lover appreciatively. “Should I tell him he’s got chocolate smeared up his face?” Smiling wickedly he caught Harry’s chin and dragged his tongue across the chocolate smear on the perfect tanned skin.

Harry jerked his head round to stare at Draco who grinned unrepentantly at him. “You had chocolate on your face,” he explained.

Harry laughed. “Two can play that game!” 

He stuck his finger in the warm chocolate before reaching across and dabbing it on the end of a pert, pale nose. Grey eyes widened in outrage before narrowing as another finger reached to drag in the bowl before running across full lips. Draco closed his eyes briefly before leaning closer to the owner of those famous, hypnotising green eyes. A groan escaped him as their lips connected.

Harry whimpered as he slid his hands around the other boy’s slim waist. He could taste blood and chocolate and Draco and it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted. Part of him wanted to stay like this forever, exploring Draco’s mouth, submitting to his lover’s skilled tongue as it claimed him. But he knew he would soon need more. And the vampire in him was starting to object to his submissive position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for Americans and other aliens: the Brownies are the English equivalent of American girl scouts (not, as the comedian Shapi Corsandi suggested, an after school club for Asian kids). They are the middle age group of the three Guide association groups – Rainbows, Brownies and Guides. Each brownie pack (or group) is divided into smaller groups called sixes, which are named after types of fairies (for those who don’t know a Brownie is a type of mischievous pixie). I was a seconder (that is second in charge of a six, after the sixer) of the Sprites (and I once got to lay the wreath on remembrance Sunday because my sixer was ill). Brownies do good deeds and collect badges. You can get badges for all sorts of things, from collecting to cooking, chess to football. The Brownie uniform of the 90s was a kaki polo shirt, mustard yellow jumper and kaki jogging bottoms or culottes (which is what Dobby wears).
> 
> Anne Bloleyn: second child of the wealthy Sir Thomas Boleyn in the 16th Century, Anne was the second wife of King Henry VIII. She changed history when she refused to become Henry’s official mistress (a position briefly held by her sister) but instead used her considerable intelligence charm and feminine wiles to convince Henry to marry her. The Pope refused to grant the necessary divorce, thus leading directly to the break with Rome, know as the reformation. She was famous for her large, dark and expressive eyes, which no man could resist. Despite popular opinion there is no evidence that she was a witch, though she did famously say “I will be the first Queen of England to be burned”. She was in fact the first Queen of England to be executed and she set a dangerous precedent. Only 6 years after her death Henry had another of his wives, his beautiful and flighty teenage bride Catherine Howard, beheaded for high treason (for writing love letters to another man). Anne is the subject of the recent film, ‘the other Boleyn girl’, which I did not bother to go and see as I’m actually interested in history, lol.
> 
> I assume you all know what Mackerel is, but in case you don’t it’s a small salt water fish similar in size to a trout, found in large numbers off the British and Norwegian coasts. It is delicious and I urge you all to try it.
> 
> Just to clear up any confusion, the phrase ‘notes for Americans and other aliens’ in borrowed from Terry Pratchett (his wonderful book Good Omens, co written with Neil Gaimen). I mean no offense to any Americans or Martians who are reading this.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16: in which there is finally sex!!!

Finally he couldn’t take any more of the delicious torture. He shoved Draco away from him as hard as he could. Draco stumbled backward and looked up. He looked worried, presumably wondering what he9 9d done wrong, and frightened and more than a little respectful of Harry’s new strength. It was a good look for him Harry thought. It made his beautiful, hypnotic grey eyes widen and shimmer. His mouth opened just a little and his tongue slipped out, wetting his lips. But most of all Harry liked how totally at his mercy Draco was. How defenseless. He wondered idly how he could ever have thought he was vanilla, but he quickly dismissed that thought. It was too tied up with thoughts of Ginny and tonight he wanted to think of no one but Draco.

Harry smiled wickedly and began to stalk toward Draco, unaware that he was showing his fangs, or that he moved with an inhuman grace, which made Draco’s breath catch. He was entirely focused on Draco.

When he reached the other boy he stopped, surveying his prize in detail. Draco was almost the same height as Harry, maybe ¼ inch shorter, but his slight build made him appear smaller. But he had a presence, which even now, frightened and submissive as he was, filled the whole room, making it impossible to ignore him. Harry was suddenly very glad Draco hadn’t become a death eater. Voldemort wouldn’t like anyone with that much charisma in his service. And Harry was in total agreement with him at the moment. If he had the knowledge necessary to make him invincible Draco could easily usurp his position. He didn’t need torture and intimidation. Harry had seen himself, so many times, how desperate people became to have Draco notice them. Harry shivered in delight. All those people staring at Draco, wanting him, but Harry had been the one to capture him. Some people spent days just trying to get one look from this ice prince, but Harry had his full and undivided attention and soon he’d make him forget any one else even existed.

Smiling a secret smile to himself, Harry grabbed Draco, and shoved backwards onto the bed that had appeared as soon as Harry had pushed Draco. He landed on the bed with a thump and bounced gently with the force of the impact. For a moment Harry felt guilty for pushing him, but Draco obviously hadn’t minded. As soon as he landed on the bed he crawled up to settle himself amongst the pillows. He was looking warily at Harry but he didn’t seem upset or frightened, just a bit surprised at Harry’s new-found forcefulness. Reassured that he hadn’t gone too far, Harry kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. He stalked up the bed on all fours until he was straddling Draco.

Draco stared at him; he eyes wide, soft blonde hair falling around his face. Harry bent his head and nuzzled against Draco’s neck, revelling in the smell of his lover and the softness of his milk-white skin. “Beautiful,” he whispered, lapping at a pulse point in Draco’s throat. “So beautiful.” He nipped lightly at the soft flesh, not using his fangs, not wanting to break the skin yet, just to remind Draco that he could. Draco whimpered and arched his back, trying to bring the firm body above him into contact with his own. He reached up and raked his hands along Harry’s back, trying to pull the other boy down on top of him. Harry laughed, very quietly, and grabbed Draco’s wrists. He pinned them above Draco’s head, aware that his nails were digging into the soft flesh, but not caring. Indeed it would be difficult to care even if he wanted too what with the way Draco had moaned the instant Harry grabbed his wrists. It was a low, guttural noise that left Harry in no doubt about how much Draco was enjoying himself.

Smirking, Harry bent his head and claimed Draco’s mouth in a searing kiss. Draco kissed back, pouring all his arousal and desire into that one simple action. Eventually Harry pulled away a little so he could bite and lap at Draco bottom lip. When he had reduced the other boy to writhing incoherence, he pulled away.

“What do you want Draco?” he asked gently. Well as gently as he could while being ruled almost entirely by his Vampiric side.

Draco blinked slowly, clearly confused. “What do I…”

“What do you want?” Harry asked again. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, since I spoiled your plan for perfect sex.”

“Oh,” Draco looked non-pulsed, the innocence and confusion in his large grey eyes for once not feigned. “Umm… give me a minute ok, my heads all fuzzy.”

Harry nodded and released Draco’s slim wrists from his vice-like grip. He rolled over and lay down beside Draco on his side, propping himself up with one arm so he could survey the pale boy’s face.

While Draco lay quietly, his eyes shut, breathing deeply as he tried to restore some calm to his mind, Harry began unbuttoning his shirt. It was awkward to do one handed but he managed ok, eventually getting every button undone, and pushed the thin fabric aside, revealing Draco’s lean form.

He was built like a rock-star, Harry thought idly as his fingers traced little circles on the pale skin. Slim almost to the point of being skinny, but not quite. He didn’t have the emaciated look that came with living on cocaine and little else, but there was a definite hint of post tour rocker in his slim build. Slim. The word described Draco perfectly. Long slender limbs, slim hips, a nipped in waist that was almost womanly. But there was nothing feminine about his chest, which was all broad angles and planes. He had some muscle and what he had was defined. There was no doubt that he was fit, but his muscles where long and lean, like a gymnast, not like Harry’s bulkier build. Draco was, Harry supposed, built like a seeker. Like Harry himself had been before he became Griffindor Quiddich captain. Now the constant training and demonstration of techniques to the other positions had bulked him out. Harry continued to stroke Draco’s milky skin, in truth a little envious of his lover’s slim frame and quiet elegance. Not in his clothes (which were always elegant but rarely understated) but his body. He moved with a kind of fluid grace. He always seemed to know exactly where every limb was and no movement was ever wasted. He was self-aware without being self-conscious, Harry supposed.

“I’d like to continue where we were before I think,” Draco said quietly. He looked completely relaxed, as if being stripped and caressed by Vampires he hardly knew happened all the time. “I’d like too suck you off too, if you’ll let me. Hmmm… we may end up staying the night though, because I absolutely insist that you fuck me tonight.” He grinned, his casual forthrightness breaking the reflective atmosphere and reminding Harry why they were here. Not that he’d forgotten exactly, but he’d been so caught up in his contemplation that he forgotten that he was in the mood. Now Draco’s sunny smile reminded him and he laughed and gently tweaked the shimmer of silver that adorned his lover’s pale chest.

Draco made an odd squeaking noise, that Harry thought was half arousal and half indignation. Bending over awkwardly he pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco opened his mouth willingly his tongue stroking against Harry’s expertly. Draco was a fantastic kisser. His lips were soft as satin, his tongue was agile (most wizards had never heard of the proverbial cherry stem trick but if he had, Draco would certainly have been able to do it with very little practice) and he was amazingly responsive. If Harry had thought about it at all, he would have expected Draco to be demanding, critical and unresponsive in bed, but the opposite was true. He responded amazingly to even the slightest touch, he had so far failed to say anything critical and as far as Harry could tell he was an amazingly generous lover.

Draco pulled away from him and began to kiss his way down Harry’s body, undoing buttons as he reached them. By the time he paused, his breath was ghosting over Harry’s crotch through the fabric of his trousers. He looked up at Harry through his fringe, his eyes seeking reassurance. Harry nodded jerkily. He was shaking slightly with anticipation. He had had blowjobs before and he had enjoyed them, but he’d always suspected that Ginny wasn’t very good. She hadn’t minded it and Harry had always come, but she had a very tiny mouth and struggled to get him all inside. She had used her hands too much and pulled faces when she swallowed.

Draco was obviously much more enthusiastic, if his broad grin was a clue. As soon as Harry had given his permission, he had unzipped Harry’s flies and wrapped his hand around Harry’s hard flesh.

For a minute or two he wanked Harry gently, watching Harry’s face intently. His hand caressed Harry’s flesh, memorizing the feel of it in his hand, it’s weight and warmth, the velvety smooth skin. Then without warning he swooped down and took Harry in his mouth, swallowing him all in one go.

Harry bucked his hips involuntarily, but Draco was prepared and pushed him back down. Draco pulled back, until his lips were just wrapped around the tip of the Harry’s cock, and then swallowed it again, taking it a little deeper each time. At last Harry’s cock was buried to the hilt in the wetness and heat of Draco’s mouth.

Draco moaned almost as loudly as Harry. It felt every bit as good as he had fantasized that first day of his crush. Better even. It was just the right size, stretching his lips and rubbing against the back of his throat, limiting his ability to breath, without hurting his jaw muscles too much.

His whole body was tingling with pleasure and every time he took the hard member into his mouth sparks of pleasure exploded in his spine. He had given a few blowjobs in his time, but never before had the experience been so intense, so pleasurable. It was as though the world had been tuned out, so that there was just him and Harry, existing in their own little world. He was acutely aware of Harry’s laboured breathing, of his unique musky scent, of the warm weight of the hand resting gently on his head. Every little whimper and moan of Harry’s filled Draco with sparks and shivers and heightened his pleasure.

He paused in his task, nudging his head back against Harry’s hand, wanting to feel it in his hair. But Harry was too lost in sensation to notice. So Draco stopped. He pulled back and knelt there smiling sweetly at Harry.

Harry blinked slowly. “Why’d you stop?” he slurred.

Draco sighed exasperatedly and reached up. Gentle as he could he folded Harry’s fingers so that they were gripping his hair gently. “This isn’t all about you, you know,” he drawled. Then satisfied that Harry had got the message he swooped his head down and swallowed Harry’s cock. He stayed still for a moment, enjoying the sensation for having all of that wonderful hot flesh in his mouth.

Harry’s hand was clenching and unclenching, like a cat trying to get comfy and Draco moaned his appreciation. He pulled away completely and began to lap at Harry flesh, reveling in the taste of the smooth skin. He lathered attention of the big vein that ran along the penis, whimpering quietly as he felt Harry pulse beneath his tongue.

Harry felt as though he was slowly going mad. The pleasure was amazing but that the same time not enough. Draco was doing things at his own pace and it was driving Harry mad. He needed more. He could hardly bear these gentle teasing touched. He was trying so hard so restrain himself, not wanting to hurt Draco, when he suddenly remembered something Draco had said on that first day in the RoR when Harry had told him of his frustration at not being allow to let himself go with Ginny.

“You can be as rough as you like with me Harry. I’ll probably enjoy it more.”

Hoping against hope that Draco hadn’t just been flirting, Harry squeezed the hand in Draco hair tight, pulling it in a way that must have been painful. Then using his hair as reigns to steer Draco’s head, he trust his hips up, forcing himself down Draco’s throat. He was rewarded with a load moan and Draco beginning to really suck him off.

‘He must have been waiting for me to do that,’ Harry mused through the ha ze of pleasure. ‘He didn’t want to force me to be sadistic, so he tricked me instead. How terribly Slytherin.’

And then he couldn’t think anymore because Draco had sucked his way back up particularly hard and swiped his tongue over and especially sensitive spot and reached one hand round to cup his balls and it was all too much for him, and Harry was yelling his release and Draco was swallowing it and then Harry was slowly coming back down to earth.

“Wow,” he said at last.

Draco smiled self-satisfaction evident in his expression. “I am amazing,” he said. “By the way, do you like to be teased, or are you just really slow?”

“Slow,” Harry admitted. “You were driving me wild, and I was trying really hard to restrain myself, then I suddenly remembered what you said that time about not having to be gentle and restrain myself with you. I was a bit worried that you’d just been flirting but I was really too desperate to care.”

Draco grinned. “You Gryffindors really are too nice for your own good. Of course I meant it. I thought I’d proved to you that I’m a masochist, and a submissive one at that.”

“Well yeah. But there’s a difference between… umm, how should I put it… asking to be hurt. Like planned pain, if you see what I mean. Spanking and stuff. Anyway there’s a difference between that and your lover being really rough with you. Just because you like one doesn’t mean you’re okay with the other.”

Draco smiled at Harry. They were curled up on the bed together, Draco resting his head on Harry’s chest, tracing the lines of the muscles in his chest. “It does if you’re me,” he said. “I see what you mean, but that distinction really only applies to more mainstream end of S&M, what Pansy calls Raspberry Ripple. But the more extreme you get, the less the distinction matters; I like pain and I like it when you hurt me. I’m not into slavery or anything like that, but I also like it when you’re a bit dominating. Don’t worry Harry. You can just be yourself with me. Do whatever feels good. If I don’t like it then I’ll tell you and we’ll do something else. But chances are I’ll like it too. So far we’ve turned out to be remarkably compatible.”

Harry smiled benevolently at his lover. “Quite remarkable considering our past. If only someone had told me years ago that one day I’d be turned into a vampire and you’d be the only person willing to let me drink their blood, I’d have made more of an effort to get to know you.”

“Ah but then things might have turned out different,” Draco pointed out, sensibly. “Anyway we’ve got plenty of time to get to know one another now. Go on ask me anything. There must be something you want to know.”

“Well… there was something. But you might be offended. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”

“What Harry? You’re gabbling.”

“Well, I was just wondering about your previous lovers. How many other men you’ve done this with? I know it’s none of my business, but I think being a vampire makes you possessive. I never was before.”

Draco smiled lazily. “It’s okay. I’ve got a bit of a reputation. It’s understandable that you’d want to know how much is true. And I don’t mind a bit of jealousy in a lover. In fact I find it quite endearing, provided it doesn’t get out of hand.

“And to answer your question, 5. I have had five male lovers. Three have also been sadists, although one very mildly so, two were submissive, one extremely so.”

“How extreme is extreme?” Harry asked with interest.

“He was into slavery. Very much so in fact.”

“Have you ever…”

“Submitted totally? Allowed myself to become a possession?”

Harry nodded, his face flaming.

“Yes, now and then. But as role-play. Occasionally it’s fun, and I won’t pretend I don’t get off on it, but I don’t want to live my life like that. It’s ironic really; my father thought he was training me to be his ideal of manhood, and a perfect dark wizard. But what he actually taught me was to be obedient and to cope with pain. So really it’s his fault that I’m submissive and masochistic as hell.”

Harry laughed. “But then if he was training you to follow Voldemorte, masochism would surely be a benefit!”

Draco shook his head. “Masochism is definitely not good. Knowing how to cope with pain is however very useful. The Dark Lord likes muggles and enemies to scream, but he likes to fool himself that his followers are somehow better than that. Not screaming when he casts crucio is one of the key requirements for being in his inner circle.”  
;  
Harry looked intently at Draco,then looked away, seeing the scars, hidden deep behind those silver eyes. “Tell me about your other lovers,” he said suddenly, trying to steer the conversation to less traumatising subjects.

Draco gave him a little smile and began listing them. “The boy who showed me that I really liked men I didn’t count on that list. We kissed once, that was it. I was 14 and Slytherin were having a party to celebrate a Quidditch win. Sex is a bigger part of life in Slytherin than in the other houses. Older students are expected to take younger lovers, to instruct them. Most pureblood families aren’t too bothered about their children’s sexual tastes, so long as they agree to marry and produce the obligatory heir and spare, no one worries too much about their personal tastes. I’ve never known why my father is an exception to this rule, but anyway. As I was saying there were plenty of openly bisexual, and even gay, students in the older years, and one of them took an interest in me. Decided I would be his student, as it were. He cornered me at this party and well… propositioned me. He was very good looking, and I’d been admiring him from afar for some time, but when he actually kissed me, I suddenly realized why I’d been admiring him. I basically just legged it.

“I spent the next six months trying to convince myself that I wasn’t interested, mostly by sleeping with girls. I lost my virginity three days after my 15th birthday, to a girl the year above. I’d also only just discovered I was a masochist, two weeks after discovering I was gay, thanks to a girl I went out with to try and prove to myself that I wasn’t gay. I went into denial about that too. I ended up hurting a lot of girls before Pansy eventually decided that enough was enough and persuaded a friend of hers, Bulger, I don’t know if you remember him, he was a chaser, to basically tie me up and force me to sleep with him.”

“He raped you?!”

Draco smiled. “Not quite. By this point I was so depressed and frustrated that it only took me about five minutes to give in. I was doing a valiant job of resisting the fact that he was good looking and male, but I couldn’t resist the fact that he was also a sadist.

“After that I tried to go back to the boy who’d wanted to ‘educate’ me, but he’d heard about my exploits with women since and decided actually he really wasn’t interested. I’d got quite a reputation for extreme sadism by then. Extreme for 15 at any rate.

 

“I had some fun with Bulger, but it was never what you might call official. We weren’t a couple, but we’d discovered that we had matching tastes so we indulged them now and then.

“Then there was a guy from the year above us called Simon Fletcher. That lasted a couple of months, though I’m not sure why, he was a most unsatisfying lay. That ended when he discovered I’d been… entertaining myself shall we say, with magic to try and improve things. That didn’t end well.

“Then there was a rather sweet boy a couple of years younger who approached me to ‘mentor’ him, as it’s euphemistically called in Slytherin, because he thought he was a masochist and he wanted someone to help him learn and he heard about my reputation as a sadist, and that I was gay from another rather more vanilla lad he approached. Peters his name was. I was rather fond of him. He was always cheerful, and made these adorable little kitten noises when you hurt him. That lasted a term, on and off, but it was always mentoring, rather than real coupledom.

“There was a bit of a break, then Septimus Greenbatch, by far the most sadistic of all my lovers. That lasted a while, but I got sick of him cheating on me and in the end I chucked him. I sort regretted if afterwards because frankly, he was the closest thing to a properly sadist gay guy Hogwarts had. Other than me of course.

The most recent was Theo Walken, he was on the Quidditch team with me. He propositioned me in the showers after practice one day. I was always last out of the showers because those ones can be turned up much higher than the one inside the school, so I’d wait till my team-mates had gone and then have the closest thing to a proper hot shower you can get in this damned place. Theo let me think everyone had gone then once I was in the shower, well, basically he begged to be allowed to suck me off. What can you say to that except yes?! I found out later he’d been talking to Lucy Spencer, one of the women I hurt when I was trying to resist my masochistic urges. Apparently he decided I sounded pretty much perfect. He was the one who was into hardcore D&S. The lasted just over a term, but while I enjoyed my time with him, I was a starting to feel unsatisfied from the lack of sadism on his part. I love causing pain, but I need to be hurt. I considered just cheating on him, but I actually really liked him, so I just let him down a gently as I could.”

Harry looked surprised. “Considering your reputation, that really isn8 0t a very long list! I was expecting double that.”

“Oi!” Malfoy cried, hitting Harry in the shoulder and laughing. “Five in three years is perfectly respectable. I would ask for yours but I suspect I already know it.”

“Yeah, you do. Ginny.”

Draco raised one eyebrow. “You really never once felt the urge to take one of the many pretty girls up on the offers I know they must have been making?”

“They didn’t. Not to my face. I got letters, and I did hear the gossip, but only three girls have ever actually attempted to proposition me. Not counting the one who gave me a box of drugged chocolates.”

“A girl gave you drugged chocolates?!”

“Yeah, but Ron ate them, the great greedy guts. That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, it wasn’t so funny at the time; it was more a pain, but afterwards… The look on Ron’s face when we gave him the antidote was priceless!”

“I bet it was. But seriously. I can’t believe only three people have ever propositioned you. I assumed you’d be fighting them of!”

“I didn’t say only three people. I said only three girls. The total count is either 5 or 6, I’m not really sure.”

“How can you not be sure? And who are these other men?”

“Well one of them’s sort of obvious,”Harry said with a dopey smile at his lover. “And the other one was George Weasley. It was him who propositioned me but I’m pretty sure Fred was included in the plan, so that makes him sort of number six. So there you have it. My entire sex life. One lover, six propositions. That’s it.”

Draco smiled and snuggled up to him. “Clearly you value quality over quantity,” he said with a little smile.

Harry smiled too, then prodded him in the chest. “Oi you, no dozing off. I haven’t finished with you yet!”

Draco looked up at him and fluttered his eyelashes. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he replied, and laughed when Harry hit him playfully in the chest.

Bending his neck awkwardly because of their positions, Harry caught Draco’s mouth in a brief affectionate kiss.

Draco shifted position so that his head was level with Harry’s and kissed him again, deeper and more passionate this time. Harry moaned and ran a possessive hand down Draco’s side, fingers delicately tracing the contours of his silken skin.

They stayed like that for long minutes, kissing and touching, gen tly at first but soon they both grew more desperate. At last Harry pushed Draco away from him and began to undress the other boy. He’d already unbuttoned his shirt so now he slid it off his shoulders and proceeded to unbutton his trousers. Draco lifted his hips when prompted, allowing the other boy to remove his trousers and boxers.

He lay quite unconcernedly as Harry studied his body. He didn’t preen, but he was clearly confident Harry would like what he saw. He had every reason too. Harry thought he had never seen anything to beautiful. True, he had once thought that about Ginny, but there was something about the way Draco’s cock jutted proudly forward, proclaiming to the world that he fancied Harry, that did wonders to Harry ego, and for his nerves. He might be scared and inexperienced, but at least he had some clear way of gauging whether he was doing it right.

That brought it home to him. What they were doing. What they were about to do. He blushed. How did one go about initiating this kind of thing? Now it came down to it, it all seemed so much more complicated than sex with a woman.

Draco smiled at the confusion on Harry’s face. Rolling onto his stomach he rummaged in the draw of the bedside cabinet and produced a small tube. “You can use a spell if you rather,” he offered, holding out the tube to Harry.

Harry blushed. “Whatever you want. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, so…”

Draco smiled. “This bit you know how to do. Unless you’d rather I did it again, of course…”

Harry shook his head. “No. I’ve got to learn sometime haven’t I. Just, you know, explain what to do please. And tell me if I hurt you.”

A million quips popped into Draco head but he squashed them down. Now was not the time to tease the poor boy. Not unless he wanted his to do a runner again.

Reaching back behind his head he took and couple of pillow and set them beneath his hips. “Better angle,9 D he explained, when Harry looked confused. When Harry still hesitated he sighed. “You won’t hurt me Harry. I’m not some delicate little girl. It’ll be fine. Now will you please get one with it!”

Harry laughed and took the top of the tube. He coated two fingers with the gloopy substance and ever so gently, began to push one of them inside the other boy.

It was the strangest thing he had ever done. Sort of hot to, especially when Draco slammed his hips up and begged for more. He felt oddly detached as he prepared his lover. He was excited, and very turned on, but this was all a bit of a culture shock after sex with women.

Draco’s amused tones broke his reverie. “I’m more than ready Harry. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thoroughly prepared before.”

Harry blushed bright and murmured something apologetic. Draco smiled. “It’s okay. I wasn’t criticizing, just teasing you a bit. But please Harry, I’m desperate to feel you inside me. You know how to do this bit,” he added with a gentle smile.

Harry took a deep breath and rolled on top of Draco. He waited for a moment while Draco positioned himself, hooking his leg over Harry’s shoulders, then he slowly pushed inside his lover. At least he had intended too, but as soon as he felt Harry move, Draco slammed his hips up to meet him, gasping at the stinging, stretching feeling.

He took a few steadying breaths and then murmured “you can move now.”

Harry did, slowly at first but his thrusts soon became faster and harder when he realized Draco was okay. Draco shifted slightly beneath him, seeking a better angle, though in truth he didn’t care that much that Harry was only occasionally scraping his prostate. It felt wonderful to finally have Harry inside him and he knew with an unerring certainty that he would come when Harry bit him, and only then.

Harry felt as though his brain was going into overdrive. He had never felt anything like this. Draco was to tight and hot, and the way he moved beneath Harry was so incredibly sexual. His whole body undulated as he thrust his hips up to meet Harry. He was sighing in a contented sort of way until Harry thrust particularly hard, at a slightly different angle. He didn’t know what he’d done differently but Draco let out a moan that was almost and scream and threw his head back, panting with pleasure. Harry kept thrusting at the same angle, his spine tingling with pleasure as he watched Draco grow more wanton and desperate beneath him.

He was close, so close now, and when Draco begged, “Bite me, I want to come with your fangs in my neck” there was no way he could have resisted, even if he wanted to.

Draco came the moment those razor fangs broke the delicate skin of his neck. Harry orgasm came only seconds later, the rush of warm blood in his mouth an d the desperate clenching of Draco’s channel tipping him over the edge.

They lay together for long moments, Draco panting, while Harry drank his fill. At last he lapped the last droplet of blood from the wounds and rolled of his lover, to cuddle up next to him.

“I could drink your blood forever,” he told him. “You taste completely heavenly.”

Draco smiled and shuffled sideways so that their bodies where pressed together. That was another unexpected thing about sex with Draco. He was so cuddly.

“You know,” he said, stroking his lover’s hair, “this might just work.”

“Mmmm,” came the sleepy reply. “I hope so. I don’t know any other vampires.”

Harry smiled. “Thank goodness for Vacuus Fines Finium then. If it wasn’t for that damned spell, none of this would have happened.”


End file.
